


Consequence

by Sorin



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, Major Character Injury, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:12:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorin/pseuds/Sorin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unable to rescue Koltira directly from Sylvanas, Thassarian instead decides to bide his time... and when his former brother comes for him, he's not at all prepared to face the reality of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Come and Find Me

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick reminder that I don't own these characters or World of Warcraft, I'm just borrowing them for the time being to have a little fun!

_Monster._

Koltira Deathweaver was intimately familiar with that word.  He’d directed at himself more than once, when his mind had become more clear, when he realized what he’d done and what he’d allowed himself to become.  He’d heard it directed at him in hateful whispers- and sometimes not whispers at all- when the Ebon Hand had gone out into the world to fight the Lich King.  He knew it was true, there was no doubt about it in his mind, and no way to stop it or reconcile it.  The one thing that kept him feeling anything remotely _close_ to clean was his bond with Thassarian, and now that was about to be severed.

He sat alone in a locked and heavily guarded cel, chained to the wall like a beast- or, he figured, a monster.  His hair hung lankly around his face, not that he could do anything about it, and his clothes- what was left of them- were filthy.  If he were alive he would have cared greatly; as it was, clean clothes were simply a habit leftover from a life long gone and he didn’t have a choice but to deal with it.  It wasn’t as though he could smell himself, and the stench in the Undercity was so awful anyway- he figured anyone that was offended by him should consider spending less time in the presence of a walking corpse.  He could certainly feel his skin crawl when insects came to visit, however, and he shook them off as quickly as he could before returning to silent, brooding solitude.

Days wore on, to the best of his reckoning, and his strength began to wane.  He wondered dimly if he’d ever see the light of day again… wondered if he’d ever see Thassarian again.  He supposed he might on the first count, but if they stripped his mind as easily as they’d stripped his body, seeing Thassarian was something he probably shouldn’t hope for.  Every so often he allowed himself to think about what it might be like if the other Death Knight came for him, cutting down anyone in his way to rescue him.  He scoffed at himself, most of the time, but sometimes he thought of it wistfully… hopefully.

Finally, when he barely had the strength to hold his head up, they came for him.  It was pathetic how weak he’d become, he tried to struggle but he may as well not have wasted what little energy he had left.  An abomination slung him over his shoulder and that was that, leaving the cel behind him along with any hope of rescue.  It was too late for him, and Koltira closed his eyes, just waiting for it all to be over.

 

 

After the battle at Andorhol, the crushing defeat and the loss of the city- and most importantly, the loss of Koltira- Thassarian had indeed tried to rescue him.  He’d scouted the Undercity for days, had slunk in under the guise of just another undead courier and got what little information he could.  In the end, the risk had been too great- and Thassarian would have fought to his death for no end result.  Therefore, he reasoned that the best use of his strength and resources would be after Sylvanas finally let Koltira back out into the world… and to simply hope that there was enough of his mind left to undo whatever damage she’d wrought.

Without anything else driving him, Thassarian returned to Stormwind and then journeyed to Mt. Hyjal in Kalimdor.  He enjoyed the peaceful beauty of the place- the parts that weren’t on fire, anyway- and bided his time, serving the Alliance as best he could while keeping an ear to the ground and waiting for the right moment to act on what he truly wanted to act on.  There was no truce in sight between the Alliance and the Horde, so no true hope of moving past this and having Koltira by his side- at least not in a conventional manner. 

It became a habit to walk at night, which served several purposes, not the least of which was to scout the area.  Mostly it was a good time for him to simply think, let his mind wander and remember what it had been like back then, when Koltira had become a steadfast presence next to him and had earned his trust.  Koltira was volatile, unpredictable, prone to fits of violence- but honorable, in his own way.  Nobody else would have said that about him, but Thassarian could see it in the choices he made.  He killed, yes, they all did- but Koltira never left his victims to suffer, not one.  Perhaps he killed more than most, but Thassarian had a sneaking suspicion that it had more to do with that than his runeblade’s constant thirst for blood.

More than that, now he had to concern himself with the encroaching cultists and fires that threatened Mt. Hyjal and those who called it home.  He didn’t tend to think much of the living, none of his kind ever really did- but he found that over time, since the Lich King had been destroyed, he was able to look at them with something that wasn’t hatred.  They had their uses, when it came to it, and at least a few of them took the time now to talk to him at length.  He’d fought with them for long enough that the stigma of what he was seemed to have faded a bit, perhaps when the realization came that perhaps he _hadn’t_ had a voice in what he’d done.

So lost in thought, he never heard the footsteps behind him, but froze when he realized he was suddenly in a bad way.  There was a sharp edge at his throat and someone close behind him, though not quite touching.  “You’ve become predictable,” a familiar voice said in a low hiss, so familiar that had he been alive his heart would have leapt.

As it was, Thassarian had little idea what he was up against, so he simply stood still and looked straight ahead.  “It’s nice to see you, too, Koltira.”  He glanced to the side and caught a glimpse of a gauntleted hand holding the sword at his neck- Byfrost, of course.  “I see you’ve rejoined the world.”

“No thanks to you,” Koltira growled.  “I should take your head off right now and take it back to my queen, but she prefers you in one piece… or at least, able to speak.  Remember that.”  A rough hand between his shoulder blades shoved him forward as he lowered Byfrost.  “Go on.”

Thassarian started walking, not sure where this was going and hating every second of it.  He still had his swords- an oversight, perhaps?- but now more than ever he wasn’t sure if Koltira would kill him… and the idea of killing Koltira was something that had haunted him.  He’d killed him the first time, yes, but in a way- a twisted sort of way- that made Koltira _his responsibility_.  All that time separated after they’d joined the Alliance and the Horde made not one bit of difference to him.  Still, he had to think and act carefully.  When Koltira had first attacked him that day in Quel’thalas, Thassarian had called him reckless, and that hadn’t changed from life into death.  He could only hope Sylvanas hadn’t wrested that from him, too.  He was counting on it.

They walked for what felt like forever, down the side of the mountain and through the blazing valleys.  The few people they encountered became victims of Koltira’s bloodlust, and after a little while of watching him kill, Thassarian felt his own starting to rise.  He’d tried to fight it off, but it always came back until he found a target.  He could only hope they’d get out of sight before the frenzy took control of him as well.  Koltira was wound tight, Thassarian could hear it in the way he moved- he didn’t even have to look at him to know.  Something tugged at the back of his mind, something wasn’t quite right, but he didn’t know what it was and would have to wait for it to reveal itself.  Hopefully it didn’t take its dear time in doing so.

On and on they walked, out of Hyjal entirely and into Winterspring through Darkwhisper Gorge.  Thassarian dared to glance over his shoulder once and was rewarded with another hard shove, though he’d caught a brief glimpse of Koltira’s face.  He looked the same as he always had, jaw set and lips pressed together, determined and focused- and a flash of anger had crossed his features when he saw Thassarian glance back at him.  That much, at least, was all the same.  Thassarian would have sighed, instead just shook his head slightly and kept walking until Koltira hauled him off of the path and into the snow.  He was about to ask _now what?_ when he was shoved into a cave, and then there was still more walking and winding until he’d lost his way entirely.

Finally, they reached a spot Koltira must have found suitable.  “Stop,” he said, his voice short.  “Stand there and don’t move.”

Thassarian did as he was told, gaze roving over the room they were in.  There was a hot spring, though it wasn’t enough to melt the ice of the cave walls and ceiling, and a few rock formations- nothing that looked overly interesting.  He wondered if they’d be meeting a mage here who would take them back to the Undercity.  A chilling thought, really.  He shifted his weight a bit and then jerked when he felt deft fingers beginning to tug at the buckles of his armor.  “ _What_ are you doing?” he asked incredulously.

“You think I’d take you back in full armor?” Koltira asked, his voice full of scorn.  “Hardly.  They stripped me of mine and got slime all over it.  I’m leaving yours here so it’ll fare better.”

Now that was odd, and Thassarian finally took the risk of batting Koltira’s hands away and turning to face him, eyes narrowed.  “You care about what happens to my armor?  That makes no sense at all.  What’s this about, Koltira?”

Koltira glared back up at him.  “I told you.  You’ll be reconditioned as I was, and you’ll need your armor.  My queen bid me to retrieve you, so here I am.”

“Chained again,” Thassarian said flatly.  “Were you so eager to have a master that you allowed your mind to be shackled once more?”

“I don’t recall having a choice in the matter,” Koltira replied in a biting tone as he went back to work on Thassarian’s pauldrons.  “I displeased her and was punished.  My goals are clear now.  Consorting with you is what got me into this situation.”

“And yet she sent you to fetch me,” Thassarian replied, deep suspicion in his voice.  “You seem none the worse for wear.  Did you simply give up, then?”  Koltira ignored him, and for a brief second he saw red.  As the strap under his arm came loose he moved swiftly, the sound of his pauldrons hitting the floor reverberating through the cavern.  He slammed Koltira into the wall behind him and held tight, a forearm across his neck as he leaned close.  “Answer me, damn you!  They told me you were hauled away despite your victory!”

“ _My_ victory?” Koltira sneered up at him and laughed, a cold, hollow sound.  “It wasn’t my victory!  Had my queen not released the Val’kyr and acted as she did, I would have failed, Thassarian- all because of you!  You were ever my weakness, and it pleased her to purge me of it!”

Thassarian growled low in his throat.  “Then perhaps it would have served you better to come with me and join the Alliance,” he said, his voice a low, cold warning.  “As it stands, I could just as easily capture _you_ and take you with me back to Stormwind.”

A flash of something in Koltira’s eyes alerted Thassarian to that whisper in the back of his mind that something wasn’t right.  This was _too easy._   “So do it, then,” the former high elf snapped.

All at once it made sense, and Thassarian’s lips curved into a menacing smile.  Koltira looked uneasy and his eyes darted around as he sought escape.  “I see,” he murmured.  “So that’s what this is.  Lure me away from everyone with this act of capturing me so that _you_ could be taken to Stormwind… and then what, I wonder?  How many would you kill before Byfrost was satisfied?  Before _Sylvanas_ was satisfied?”

Koltira struggled, then, hands scrabbling to reach the sword still strapped to his back.  Thassarian wondered if he was going to try and kill him, hoped that he wouldn’t.  He took advantage of his greater height and size to beat Koltira to it, wrapping his hand around Byfrost’s hilt and drawing it from its sheath.  “No!” Koltira screamed, struggling so hard it seemed he might snap his own neck, and Thassarian hurled the blade far from them.  He heard it splash into the spring and smirked.  He then paused to draw his own blades and toss them out of reach as well.

“There, now,” Thassarian growled.  “Stop struggling, damn you!  What did she put you through?  Tell me!”

Koltira was past that point by now, filled with rage and who knew what else.  He continued to struggle and Thassarian held him fast, and it became a question of who would tire first.  Unfortunately, months of captivity had drained Koltira’s strength, and it wasn’t long at all before he finally sagged against the cave wall, eyes falling half-closed.  He was panting, which Thassarian found even stranger, though he sometimes did indulge in a sigh or otherwise use breath to speak.  When Thassarian slowly moved his arm away, Koltira slumped forward against him, seemingly unconscious.

Thassarian stood still for a long moment.  Death Knights did not go unconscious, nor did they have need for sleep.  They could be knocked senseless, certainly, but Thassarian couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually blacked out.  Finally, cautiously, he drew back- and had he let go, Koltira would have collapsed.  “What did she _do?_ ” he breathed, absolutely confounded now.  He hadn’t done anything that would cause Koltira that much harm, and the stubborn bastard certainly hadn’t broken his neck, though not for lack of trying.

He hefted Koltira’s unresisting form and walked a good distance away from his blades and the spring, laying him down in a small cavern off to the side.  Once there he busied himself with the same task Koltira had set to earlier, determined to see him and garner more information.  Sylvanas had absolutely had him tortured, of that he had no doubt, and those marks may or may not linger… but whatever was causing this strange behavior had to have a source, and Thassarian meant to find it.  Piece by piece he pulled Koltira’s armor off, making a face once he was done at the tattered ruin of shirt and breeches beneath.  This was not at _all_ like the elf, who changed his clothes at least every other day and complained often and loudly when he couldn’t.

Grimacing, he studied the former high elf and wondered what he was going to do next.  He was hardly squeamish, but he’d rather have a target before he began digging through his clothes- or worse, his body.  Koltira would likely become a wild thing if he even tried, so restraining him would be the first order of business.  Thassarian looked around to see if there was anything useful, then went to Koltira’s armor and dug through his pouches.  There he found a length of rope, thin but strong, and nodded to himself.  It would do for now, and if Koltira had assumed it would hold him, then it was reasonably safe to assume it would hold Koltira.  If not, well… he’d just have to handle that when the time came.

Once Koltira was bound, Thassarian sat back and weighed his options.  The other Death Knight was still seemingly out cold, or perhaps faking it- that wasn’t something he could count out.  Once he’d trusted Koltira implicitly and would never have thought for a moment he might betray him… but that was before Sylvanas had gotten hold of him.  There was just enough of the old Koltira remaining to throw Thassarian off his guard, clearly, though luckily instinct had warned him that something was amiss.  With a sigh he started to search, wishing that this didn’t seem so much like intimacy.  Koltira never would have stood for it- in fact, the one time Thassarian had hesitantly broached the subject, he’d gotten a mailed fist against his jaw and Koltira on top of him in seconds, demanding angrily that he never, ever mention it again.  Thassarian hadn’t, and Koltira hadn’t spoken to him for two weeks after, but one night shortly after he’d given in he had allowed himself to lean against Thassarian and rest.

“Forgive me, Koltira,” he murmured, and then stripped the remains of his clothes off of him.  He was covered in stitched wounds and scars, much like Thassarian himself was, and that was no surprise.  The necrosurgeons often had to piece them both back together, though even dead flesh knit over time- something to do with the magic used, he supposed.  The new wounds that were stitched were the ones that got Thassarian’s attention, thusly, and he was surprised at his hesitance.

After a long moment of staring and wondering what the hell he was going to do, Koltira stirred.  He came back to himself all at once when he realized he was bound and struggled to sit up, which wasn’t going to be possible thanks to the way Thassarian had tied him.  “What- what is this?!” he spat.  “What are you doing?  Have you truly sunk this low, you bastard, that you’d-?!”

Thassarian did sigh then, half from vexation and half from sorrow.  “Nothing like that,” he replied, his voice clipped.  “Don’t flatter yourself.  I offered once, you declined, and that was the end of it.”

Koltira growled at him.  “Sorry, but corpses don’t exactly turn me on,” he said, his tone absolutely vicious.  “My own included.  Stay the hell away from me!”

“I thought we’d established that’s not what this is about,” Thassarian replied, keeping his gaze evenly on Koltira’s.  “Meanwhile, you seem to have some new wounds… from the fighting at Andorhol, I wonder?”

“Maybe,” Koltira replied suspiciously.  “What does that matter? I don’t see- a-aaagh!”  His words were interrupted with a choked cry as Thassarian reached down to his wounded calf and slid a finger under his stitches, tearing them out in one even move.  Death Knights did feel pain- that was _all_ they tended to feel- and Koltira was hardly exempt from that even now.

Thassarian didn’t flinch- he couldn’t, not now.  “I mean to find out what was done to you,” he said flatly, “in one way or another.  You can tell me, if you know- but I believe that you don’t, at least not the full extent.  Your body, however, is another story.”  This was going to be a messy business, and Thassarian had no needle and thread with which to mend Koltira after he was through, but none of the wounds appeared fatal.  It would take destruction on a far larger scale to accomplish that.  He looked at Koltira again, the fingers of his right hand slick with black blood, and sighed before reaching into his own pouch with his clean hand and pulling out a clean handkerchief.  He wadded it up and held it in front of Koltira’s face.  “Open your mouth.”

Koltira, ever quick to anger and lash out, spat curses at him- and got the handkerchief stuffed in his mouth for his trouble.  Thassarian could have laughed at how quickly he’d given in, or perhaps simply risen to the bait, but nothing about what he was about to do was humorous… and before long, the cloth was all that muffled Koltira’s screams of agony.

After a long time- too long, in Thassarian’s mind- all he’d really discovered was that some of the wounds were indeed inflicted by Sylvanas’s drudges, and they seemed to cause Koltira the most pain, but didn’t explain at all the shifts in his behavior- or his body’s behavior.  For all intents and purposes, Koltira appeared normal (save for his new fanatical devotion to Sylvanas), and that frustrated Thassarian greatly.  It was worse that he’d had do to all this and cause all this pain for nothing.  There were small pools of blood all around the other Death Knight’s body… and that’s what finally caught Thassarian’s eye.

He leaned closer to one of the pools and stared at it intently… and after a second, he saw it again.  It _bubbled_ ever so slightly.  He drew back, disgusted, and looked at the wound it had come from.  “Tell me what you remember,” Thassarian ordered, reaching up and pulling the handkerchief out of Koltira’s mouth. 

“Or _what?_ ” Koltira managed, weak from pain and furious at his predicament.  “This wasn’t supposed to have happened…!”

“Of course not,” Thassarian replied flatly.  “Sylvanas likely didn’t think I had the wits to figure this out, nor the stomach to actually _do_ it.  Start talking, Elf, or I’ll take you apart piece by piece until I find the answer on my own.”

Koltira lay still for a long moment, eyes closed, before speaking quietly.  “You may as well kill me, then.”  When he opened his eyes, they were still blazing with fury.  “There’s no way my queen will forgive what she will undoubtedly view as more treachery!  Damn you, Thassarian, why couldn’t you let me _go?!”_

Thassarian smiled faintly, reached up and lightly touched Koltira’s hair in a gesture that surprised them both with how gentle it was.  “Would you have let me go?” he asked quietly.  “Brothers in death, Koltira… brothers in arms against the living, then the dead.  What else do we _have_ but each other?”

“I would have,” Koltira replied stubbornly, but Thassarian knew he was lying simply because he didn’t jerk away from the light touch.  “If you were fool enough to be caught, to make the same mistakes I did, I would have let you rot.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Thassarian said quietly.  “And while you’re at it- tell me what they did to you in the Undercity.”

Koltira remained stubbornly silent for a moment.  “They locked me in a cage at first,” he finally said, turning his gaze from Thassarian’s.  “I don’t know how long I was there for.  The only thing that kept me sane was them keeping Byfrost from me, otherwise I would have succumbed and killed myself.”  His gaze went to the mouth of the small cavern, where the spring lay just out of sight.  “After that I was hauled to the apothecaries.  I don’t know what they did.  When I woke, Sylvanas’s voice was in my head just like Arthas’s used to be.”  His lip curled.  “I continued to resist, and they made the wounds on my thighs that you found.  I don’t know what they did, but they hurt like nothing aside from the killing strike you dealt me- _don’t_ touch them!”

Thassarian made an impatient sound.  “I have to.  Something’s odd about the blood that’s coming from them.”  He looked back up and grabbed Koltira’s chin, forcing the other Death Knight to met his gaze.  “Do you want to be free or not?” he snapped.

Koltira looked back at him, expression unreadable, then slumped.  “I’m not good for much anything,” he muttered.  “Orbaz was right all that time, it seems.  Left to my own devices, I rely too heavily on you… or on the Lich King’s orders, or Sylvanas’s.  She didn’t worry about sending me here because she thought her control over me was stronger.  Do what you want, Thassarian.  I’ll be dead soon either way.”

It was then that Thassarian realized he’d been looking in the wrong place the entire time.  Why, indeed, would Sylvanas not worry unless she had insurance?  He quickly shoved Koltira onto his back and examined the mortal wound, and there alongside it was a fresh scar.  It blended in so well with the other because it had never truly healed, none of them ever did.  Thassarian cursed himself a fool before raising his eyes to Koltira’s.  “Then this may be goodbye for both of us,” he said grimly.  “I’m not leaving you to that fate.  I couldn’t save you from the Undercity but I _damn_ well am going to save you now.”

Koltira stared at him with a mix of trepidation and anger on his face, which eventually faded as he looked away.  “Give me the handkerchief back, then,” he muttered.  “The last thing I want is to further disgrace myself.”

Thassarian smiled briefly and nodded, stuffing the handkerchief carefully back into Koltira’s mouth before turning to the wound.  This one had been healed, albiet poorly, and his gaze went back to Koltira’s armor before he searched the right boot on a hunch.  Sure enough, there was a dagger there, and he chuckled softly as he drew it and returned to the stricken elf on the floor.  “Who’s the predictable one?” he asked, and carefully he drew the point of the dagger over the scar.  More of that bubbling blood poured out right away and Koltira’s back arched as a muffled scream was torn from his throat.  “Easy,” Thassarian murmured.  “I’m sorry.  Just-… think of something else.”

Koltira glared fiercely at him but didn’t offer any resistance.  Thassarian dug the knife a bit deeper and Koltira cried out again, and then he carefully spread the wound open with his fingers.  There was nothing visible, but if he ran one finger along the upper part of the wound, near Koltira’s heart, he could feel something.  Koltira’s whole body was as tense as could be, eyes squeezed shut.  Thassarian felt horrible for his friend’s pain, but he knew it had to be done and so he continued grimly, trying to block out those pitiful cries.

Finally he cut the last layer of flesh blocking whatever it was and peered at it intently.  Koltira was keening into the cloth, which in anyone else would have been body-wracking sobs, and Thassarian reached up to touch his hair again.  “Steady,” he said softly.  “I know it hurts.  It’ll be over soon.  I just need a moment to figure out what to _do_ with this.”  There seemed to be a small rod implanted in him, made of a material he didn’t recognize- and this wound, as deep as it was, could be fatal if Thassarian slipped by one centimeter.  “They put something in your chest.  Do you remember this at all?”  It took a moment, but Koltira finally closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, keening choking off into a pitiful moan before he went silent entirely.  “All right.  I’m going to remove it.  _Don’t move._ ”

Carefully, Thassarian positioned the tip of the dagger under the rod and lifted.  Koltira gave another agonized sound but he obeyed, keeping as still as he possibly could.  There were spikes on the underside to keep it in place, and after a bit of creative maneuvering, Thassarian had it free.  He grabbed another cloth from his pouch and used it to pull the rod out, then flung it onto the floor and stared at it in disgust.  Koltira seemed to have passed out again- or something like it.  He turned his attention back to the wound and grimaced.  There was no way he could fix it- or the others he’d inflicted by tearing the stitches open- so it was to Acherus for the two of them.  “Hang on, Koltira,” he murmured.  “We’re almost finished here.”  He wrapped the rod in the cloth and hid it under Koltira’s breastplate, then lifted the motionless Death Knight into his arms and opened a gate.  He glanced at the armor- they’d have to come back for it, he figured- and stepped through, going straight to the necrosurgeons.

Luckily- or perhaps unluckily- they asked no questions.  They were used to Death Knights coming in various states of disrepair, and it was very obvious Thassarian had inflicted most of this on Koltira.  They wordlessly stitched him, though it took several hours, and Thassarian paced the hallway outside until he was summoned in to take Koltira away.  Luckily there were empty rooms in the Hold now, and Thassarian commandeered one without ceremony.  He lay Koltira on the bed and bolted the heavy door, then dragged a chair over and sat next to him to wait.

It was a whole day before Koltira came back to himself, and when he did, he was disoriented.  “Where…?” he asked groggily, slowly pushing himself up- and then gasping and falling back to the mattress.  “By the _sun!_ ”

“You’re in Acherus,” Thassarian replied quietly.  “I wouldn’t move if I were you.  I don’t know how long it’ll take that wound on your chest to heal.  What do you remember?”

Koltira closed his eyes tight for a moment and then opened them, turning his head to look at Thassarian.  “You carving me like a holiday meal,” he growled.  “Bits and pieces.  Did you _have_ to root through _every_ wound on my body?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry it hurt, but I’m not sorry for doing it.”  Thassarian sat forward and rested his forearms on his knees, looking down at Koltira intently.  “I found how Sylvanas was controlling you.  You probably don’t remember _that_ part.”

“I remember,” Koltira said shortly, “and one more word about it will earn you the same sort of agony I just suffered.”  He’d always been prickly about his pride, and it had been deeply wounded at the way he’d carried on while Thassarian dug it out.  He looked at Thassarian again and his expression softened, just a touch.  “I… owe you my life.  Again.”

Thassarian shook his head.  “I’m not keeping score.  It doesn’t matter.  You fought for your freedom and you won.  Think of it that way.”

Koltira snorted.  “I didn’t do much but lay there and let you flay me open, but however you’d like to look at it is fine.”  He stared up at the ceiling then, lifting one arm to lay over his head.  “I didn’t think I’d ever see this place again.  … or much of anything, when they came to take me away.” He paused, then his eyes widened and he pushed himself up with a grimace of pain.  “Byfrost!  It’s still in that thrice-damned cave!”

“So it is, along with your armor,” Thassarian replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders.  “We’ll go back for it as soon as you can move without tearing open that wound and bleeding everywhere.  Nobody’s going to bother it.  My swords are there too, remember?”

Koltira stared at him flatly.  “So you left my armor, my weapon, and _your_ weapons behind?  You are an idiot, Thassarian!”

“I was more concerned with you not dying on me,” Thassarian replied curtly.  “You damn near did!  You-“

“Oh, stop it,” Koltira snapped, laying back down.  “I get the picture.”  He paused, then slowly moved his other hand to rest on Thassarian’s knee.  He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to- that gesture said it all.  “I thought about you coming to rescue me,” he said quietly, letting out a soft, bitter laugh.  “Like some damsel in distress.  That’s all I wound up being in the end, I suppose.”

Thassarian hesitated, then covered Koltira’s hand with his own.  There was no warmth there, not physically, but for once he didn’t mourn its absence.  “I’m not exactly sure how you thought to escape,” he replied, choosing his words carefully.  “I spent a week there trying to figure out how to get you out, and I couldn’t even get near you.  Rather than risk dying for good and never seeing you again… I took a gamble that I would be able to free you when you came for me.  I knew you would.”

Koltira nodded slightly.  “Of course.  You weren’t supposed to figure any of that out, like you said… she thought she had the upper hand.  Simple brainwashing wouldn’t have worked, nor would erasing my memory… somehow or another, you’d have gotten around that, too.”  He looked up at Thassarian again, expression unreadable.  “Either way, I’m marked now.  You got rid of whatever that thing was, but that doesn’t change the fact that if she gets hold of me again she’ll simply kill me for good.”

“Then this time, you’ll stay with me,” Thassarian said firmly.  “She won’t take on the might of the Alliance just to get you back.  This time, we won’t be parted.”

For a long moment, Koltira was silent, then he turned his hand over and carefully wrapped his fingers around Thassarian’s.  “No,” he said quietly.  “Not this time.  Not ever again.” He stayed silent for a long moment after that, gaze falling on their twined hands, and then looked up at Thassarian again.  “Don’t think this means I’m going back on what I said earlier,” he warned.  “That sort of thing won’t ever work for us.”  His tone became slightly wistful, then.  “I wish… it would.”

Thassarian nodded.  “I understand,” he said quietly.  “We can play at life, at being alive, all we want- but it doesn’t make a difference in the end.  People will still stare, mothers will hurry their children away, we’ll be called all sorts of names.  I don’t care about any of that so long as I have you by my side, and I mean it.  You mean more to me than any of that ever could.”

Koltira shifted a bit and nodded as well.  “It’ll be harder than before,” he muttered.  “I can’t exactly hide the fact that I’m an elf.”

“A high elf,” Thassarian pointed out.  “I killed you when Quel’thalas fell.  It was after that, when Kael’thas took over, that your race started to change.  The high elves are still allied with the Alliance.”

“Nobody will see a difference,” Koltira grumbled.  “Don’t placate me.  I’m willing to suffer through whatever I have to, but I’ll kill anyone who tries to interfere- _don’t_ doubt that.”  He looked up at Thassarian again, a warning in his glowing blue eyes.  “I’m not going to let someone come at me- or you- with steel drawn.  Even among my own people I hear them whisper _monster_ , so let them think that of me and I’m happy to fulfill their expectations.”

Thassarian didn’t know what to say to that so he didn’t reply, just gave Koltira’s hand a light squeeze.  He hadn’t pulled away yet, that was definitely a good sign.  Either this whole thing had shaken him thoroughly, or he was simply done with being apart.  “Rest for now,” he said.  “When you’re feeling better we’ll go retrieve our things.  I left the rod there, just in case.”

Koltira glowered at him.  “In case she could find it- and then take my armor and our swords?  Brilliant.”

“Better that than them taking you,” Thassarian replied firmly.  “There’s no hope for her to reach you here, so if you’d rather, I’ll go fetch them myself.”  He wasn’t wild about the idea of being separated from Koltira- he didn’t _think_ the elf would run, but he still wasn’t sure Sylvanas’s hold was entirely broken, either.

“That seems like a better idea than dragging me along unarmed and unarmored,” Koltira replied a bit peevishly.  “I’ll be fine here.”

Thassarian looked down at him for a moment, then nodded and stood reluctantly.  Koltira was still holding his hand tightly, and he paused briefly before lifting it to his lips and then letting go, stepping back before the elf could take a swing at him.  “Then I’ll be back shortly.  Try not to tear your wound open again, hm?  It won’t kill you to lay here for awhile.”

Koltira grumbled something rude at him in return, but nodded and turned his gaze to the ceiling.  “And you try not to die if they’re already there rooting through our things,” he said firmly.  “Leave the damn armor if you have to, just- just get me my sword.”

“Of course.”  Thassarian walked to the door and paused, glancing back, before heading out into the hall and summoning a couple of other Death Knights.  “Watch him,” he said to them quietly, glancing back at the door to the room where Koltira was resting.  “I think I took care of the hold that bitch queen had over him, but I can’t be sure.”

They nodded in understanding and positioned themselves outside the door, and Thassarian commandeered a portal to Everlook and summoned Dusk.  He thought he could remember where the cave was- at least, he hoped that would be the case- and started riding south for the valley.  It was a fairly long distance and the sun had set by the time he arrived, and so far the only tracks he saw leading toward it were his own and Koltira’s.  He dismounted and patted Dusk gently on the neck, then walked into the cave and grimaced.  It might take him hours more to find the place Koltira had stopped, what with all the winding and turning they’d done, but it didn’t seem prudent to linger.

The sound of angry voices stopped him a little while later and he cursed quietly, ducking behind a large stalagmite and peeking out.  He could see into the cavern where Koltira had stopped him- his pauldrons were still there, which he’d nearly forgotten about, as were his swords.  The voices came from the room where he’d carved Koltira open to find the source of the corruption.

“… won’t be happy _at all_ about this,” one of them was saying, agitated.  There was a crashing sound- probably the owner of the voice kicking a piece of Koltira’s armor.  “How did he _know?!_ ”

“He didn’t,” the other voice replied with a strange, hissing-like tone.  “Look at the blood on the floor.  He carved that bastard elf up more thoroughly than the apothecaries did.  Should we take the armor back?”

“Leave it,” the first voice snapped.  “We’ll take the device, that should be proof enough.  Leave the swords on the ground, too.  Who knows what might happen if you touch a Death Knight’s weapon?”

They hadn’t found Byfrost in the spring, yet, which was a blessing in and of itself.  Thassarian was sure they’d reconsider, as Byfrost hungered for the blood of the Scourge more than most anything else.  After waiting to the count of five hundred, and then once more, Thassarian slipped out of his hiding spot and slowly moved toward his blades.  As soon as he felt it safe to do he darted forward and grabbed them up, brandishing them and ready to take on whoever was left in the cavern.  Luckily, there was no one, and he quickly retrieved Byfrost from the spring and the rest of Koltira’s armor.  He paused, eyes falling on the floor liberally stained with blood, then opened a gate back to Acherus and disappeared through it without a second thought.  

Hidden well in the corner of the room, someone watched- and someone smiled.


	2. Reckless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now free from Sylvanas' grip, Koltira makes a choice that disturbs Thassarian greatly- but in the end, he finds he can't argue, and hopes that Koltira's reckless nature won't lead them further into trouble.

In the Undercity, Sylvanas sat brooding on her throne, one finger tapping on the arm of it as she pondered her situation.  In all of her possible plans and variations, what she hadn’t considered was that the human fool would actually cut Deathweaver open and take the device out of him… which meant either the apothecaries had made a mistake by making the wound too obvious, or he was simply that ruthless.  From her agents’ descriptions of all the blood on the floor, it sounded like Thassarian had done a much more thorough job in causing Deathweaver agony than her own servants had… and that made a small smile curve her lips.  She could use this, oh, yes… but it would take time and another new plan.

She gazed into the darkness, thinking hard, sharp mind working over the events and coming up with several potential paths of action.  She had to have Deathweaver, there was no question about it.  Thassarian would have been a nice bonus on top of that, but only to perform experiments on that her formerly-devoted servant was too valuable to risk on.  Sylvanas had been closed-mouthed as to why Deathweaver was so important, but none of them had really asked… they were too thrilled to have a Death Knight to play with.  Not just any sin’dorei Death Knight would serve her purposes… so far as she knew there weren’t any others accessible from the time Quel’thalas had fallen.

Her hand clenched into a fist as she thought about it, hatred welling up in her chest and burning from the inside out.  Arthas was long dead, may he rot forever in the lowest of hells, and Quel’thalas was thriving… especially with the reigniting of the Sunwell.  She had felt it, though she’d not mentioned it or given any notice beyond the perfunctory.  Her relationship with Regent-Lord Lor’themar Theron was strained at best, unfortunately, and Halduron Brightwing wasn’t much help either.  In life they had all been fairly close, but the two had developed an unusually tight bond in the time since she died- and not for the first time she pondered that as well, wondering how best to use it to her benefit.  Grievous mistakes had been made in the past, wrongs and betrayals causing the sin’dorei to become a suspicious and bitter lot.  She could understand that, yes… and she had to be careful.  The footsteps she was considering walking in led down a disastrous road, no matter how well-intended the walker had been.

No- she would not make his mistakes.  She would redeem her own people as he had failed to do… and she would emerge victorious.  That small smile returned as she relaxed, biding her time and waiting to see what the next move for Thassarian and Deathweaver would be.  Much hinged on that, she knew, and she could guide her ambition appropriately if given the time to wait and watch.

 

 

When Thassarian returned to Acherus, all was quiet.  The Death Knights outside Koltira’s room had nothing to report, and so he sent them on their way with a nod of thanks and went inside.  Koltira was still in the bed, which he considered a minor miracle in and of itself, but sharp blue eyes immediately sought him out as soon as he entered.

“You’ve returned with my armor,” Koltira said, sounding pleased.  “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to pull that off.”

Thassarian rolled his eyes.  “I’ve carried more,” he said, placing the armor aside and leaning Byfrost, in its sheath, against the wall near the bed.  “Byfrost as well, and my blades and pauldrons.  Everything was accounted for.”

Koltira watched him closely.  “Everything, hmm?” he asked.  “I’m certain you’re including that device she put in me.”

“No need to be sarcastic,” Thassarian shot back, but sarcastic was often where Koltira spent most of his time.  “You were right, much as I’m sure it pleases you to hear.  Two of Sylvanas’s agents were there looking for you.”

“Only an idiot wouldn’t have seen that coming,” Koltira replied, nonplussed.  “I told you, she isn’t going to let me go that easily.  What did they say?”

Thassarian shrugged and sat down in the chair he’d spent a day in previously, keeping vigil over Koltira as he rested.  “Nothing of interest.  They made comments about the blood on the floor and took the device back to the Undercity.  They considered taking my blades, but decided against it lest they rise from the floor and fight back.”

Koltira snorted.  “Not likely, but I’ll not fault their stupidity.  Byfrost may have, but yours?  No.”  He shifted positions and then slowly sat up, wincing.  The runes on his body glowed softly and his hair fell over his shoulders and down his back, past his waist.  “Heh.  To be a fly on the wall when she finds out you carved me up like you did.”

“I didn’t do any such thing,” Thassarian replied, vaguely amused. “Don’t be melodramatic.  Those wounds were already there.”

“Melodramatic?” Koltira growled at him, clearly aggravated.  “You did what you had to, but I’m surprised the necrosurgeons were able to patch me up as quickly as they were.”  He rose from the bed clad only in breeches- clean ones, Thassarian noted with no small amount of amusement- and walked to the window to look out at the Plaguelands.  “Well, Thassarian… what do we do now?  Return to Stormwind and pray I don’t have to take on the entirety of the royal guard?”

Thassarian shrugged again.  The more agitated Koltira got, the more he tended to relax and watch him- it was so easy to rile him up, and he took a bit of wicked pleasure in it.  “We could,” he replied, “and I believe King Wrynn will be pleased to have a warrior like you on his side… especially since it involves thumbing his nose at Sylvanas.”

Koltira made a noncommittal sound at that, but didn’t reject the idea outright.  “We could also go north to the Ghostlands,” he pointed out.  “The Scourge are still a large problem there, you know.”  He didn’t look back when he spoke, but his hands clenched a bit at the windowsill.

“To Quel’thalas?”  That idea made Thassarian so uncomfortable that he actually stood and paced to the other side of the room, leaning against the stone wall.  “Why?”

“Because we owe them that much,” Koltira said softly, staring out the window for another moment before turning back.  “Because I have business unfinished.”

Thassarian gaped at him.  Just when he thought he’d had the elf figured out, he went and revealed another layer that left Thassarian utterly and thoroughly confused.  “What could you possibly have to do there?” he managed.  “On top of that, what makes you think they’ll welcome us?”

Koltira glanced back at him with a faint smirk.  “Who says we’re going to tell them we’re there?” he countered.  “All I want to do is help purge the Scourge from the forests… to help reclaim them if I can.  I’ve wandered so long with no purpose, seeking one master or another… and now I turn to myself for direction.”

Reckless.  After all, Thassarian had hoped Sylvanas hadn’t purged that from Koltira, and it seems she hadn’t.  Still, the thought of going to Quel’thalas was disturbing- it was the way it was now in large part because of him and the minions he’d commanded.  “You’re asking much of me,” he finally said, his voice low and grating.  “I don’t know, Koltira.”  He’d been completely under Arthas’s control when they’d fallen upon Quel’thalas like a plague-scorched shadow, though he’d faltered when it came to killing Koltira’s brother, Faltora.  He’d spared him only to have the idiot run off to a far worse death than Thassarian would have given him, and mere seconds later, too.  Koltira had still come after him, and he’d died for it in the end.

Cold hands landed on his shoulders- he could feel the chill even through his armor- and Thassarian looked up to see glowing blue eyes boring into his own.  Though smaller than he, Koltira still managed to gain the upper hand without much effort if he truly set his mind to it.  “We can’t ever be forgiven for what we’ve done,” Koltira said, his voice low and hollow, “but we can damn well try to set some of it right.  I should have gone to Quel’thalas in the first place instead of the Undercity, and my mistake cost me- and you- dearly.”

“Mistake?”  Thassarian had found his voice again and he looked down at Koltira, expression hard.  “Every time I asked you about home you gave me a flippant answer.  I asked you about who you left behind and you said they were all dead and buried.  Do their souls torment you so much that you want to go back to that place and remember it all?”

Koltira’s hands flexed on his shoulders and the set of his jaw became stubborn.  “What I choose to share- or not- is my own choice,” he snapped back.  “I’m telling you now, Thassarian, that I want to help my people.  Dead or not, I am a quel’dorei!  I can’t keep turning my back on that.  I lost most of myself when I tried!  Do you not still feel an allegiance to Lordaeron?  Is that not why you pledged your sword to the Alliance?”

Thassarian stared down at Koltira, utterly shocked.  Never had he shown so much passion for his homeland- he’d either dodged questions about it or flat-out denied caring.  Personally, Thassarian had never been secretive about his desire to reclaim Lordaeron, which was why he’d fought so hard at Andorhal.  He shifted a little, uncomfortable, suddenly realizing that he’d vastly underestimated Koltira all this time.  “It is,” he finally said grudgingly.  “Your people will welcome you with no more enthusiasm than mine welcomed me.”

“They don’t need to know we’re there,” Koltira replied shortly.  “I’ve no desire to fraternize with the living if I can avoid doing so.  What I want- what Byfrost wants- is the blood of the Scourge splattered on us both.”

He resisted for a moment longer, and then finally, Thassarian nodded slowly.  “Very well,” he breathed, “and I hope you know what you’re doing, opening this can of worms.  It won’t be pleasant for either of us.”

 

A week or so later, Lor’themar Theron was sitting in his office and trying to come up with a reason- any reason- to get away from the endless pile of paperwork on his desk.  Typically a patient man, Lor’themar still hated both politics and procedure with a fiery passion.  He much preferred to be on the battlefield, on the front line if possible, fighting and feeling his blood surging all the while.  Now, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, counting to ten and then ten again to refocus his mind and get through everything that needed to be done.

The door to his study opened abruptly and admitted a rather harried-looking Halduron Brightwing, who nodded to him as he closed the door behind him.  “I have news,” he said.  “Interesting news, if it proves true.”

“Oh?”  Lor’themar leaned forward a bit, hoping he didn’t seem too over-eager, and then frowned.  “If it’s bad news, I’m not sure I want to hear it.”

Halduron shrugged.  “That depends on your definition,” he said.  He sat across from Lor’themar, reaching out to lightly caress his hair as he did, and then was back to business.  “My rangers tell me two Death Knights have been spotted in the southern Ghostlands, slaughtering any Scourge that get in their way.”

Lor’themar stared at him blandly.  “That sounds like good news to me, and more thanks to them,” he replied, “but I’m assuming it doesn’t end there.  Go on.”

“One is human, or seems to be,” Halduron continued, “and the other… he is one of us, or was.”

Falling back in his chair, Lor’themar sighed softly.  “A shame,” he murmured, “but… there’s not much we can do for our fallen brother except let him take out his anger on the Scourge- which, as I implied earlier, he is more than welcome to do.  If there’s a human with him, however…” He trailed off and tapped his fingernails on the desk absently.  They were longer now and colored red, marking his new station in life.  “Well, what would you have me do?  If all they’re killing is Scourge, I say let them.  They are an unlikely pair, to be certain, but ultimately of little consequence.”

Halduron nodded.  “Normally I would agree with you, but further reports indicate that the elf could be Koltira Deathweaver… and Sylvanas seems eager to reunite with her rogue commander.”

Lor’themar’s lip curled.  Damn her and her schemes, anyway… what right did she have to a sin’dorei?  “And the human?” he asked, not a little distastefully.  He didn’t mind humans, per se, but would have been much happier without them in his lands.  It was enough he had to suffer them on Quel’danas.

“My rangers didn’t recognize him.  He seems friendly with Koltira, so it’s fair to say they’re allies.”  Halduron paused, then shook his head.  “To hear that he’s returned… it’s… painful.”

“Yes, it is,” Lor’themar said, softening a touch.  Koltira had been a Farstrider in life, and while neither he nor Halduron had known him much beyond passing, Lor’themar had a vague memory of a young elf with long blond hair, a bright smile, and ready laughter.  “We knew he’d been taken.  I suppose it’s a small blessing that they didn’t take Faltora as well.”

Halduron grimaced slightly.  “There wasn’t enough of Faltora for them to take, when all was said and done,” he said quietly.  “My guess is that is part of what brings Koltira here… vengeance, of a sort.”

Lor’themar nodded absently, mind going back to the human.  “I was ever under the impression that Death Knights were a solitary bunch, but these two are traveling in a pair… I wonder why that is.  The human surely knows that trespassing on our lands has heavy consequences… but given the current state of our Rangers and Farstriders and how very thinly stretched we still are, I’m hard-pressed to want to punish him for doing us a favor.”  He rose from his desk and stretched, then looked at Halduron with a whimsical grin.  “Let’s go for a little ride and see for ourselves.”

Halduron rose as well and walked to Lor’themar, reaching up to lightly settle his hands on his shoulders.  “You’ve been hunched over these papers all day,” he said.  “Are you sure you’re fit to ride- and fight, if necessary?”

Lor’themar snorted.  “Always.  However, if tonight you are feeling charitable…” He trailed off with a hopeful expression.

“I’m sure something can be arranged.”  Halduron leaned up to kiss him lightly, then drew back and gestured toward his bedchamber.  “Fetch your armor and we’ll go.  I’ve no desire for you to face two Death Knights in that.”

That, which Halduron spoke of rather distastefully, was the outfit Lor’themar had worn to meetings in the morning and had then been too busy to change out of.  The Regent-Lord grimaced.  “I agree,” he replied, disappearing into his room to change.  As he did so, he smiled a little, glancing back over his shoulder at the half-open door.  Halduron was a blessing, a breath of fresh air, and he was certain he’d never get enough of him.  Keeping their relationship behind closed doors was easy due to their deep and abiding friendship, and they were both content with that, which pleased Lor’themar greatly.  Not having to worry about a lover who would tend toward scheming was a wonderful thing, in his mind, and it helped that they’d been lovers for far longer than he’d been Regent-Lord.

Once armored, he walked back out of his room and strapped his sword belt to his hips.  “Let’s go,” he said with a warm smile for Halduron before the two left the office and became simply friends again.  Later that night they could indulge, but for now, it was business… though perhaps not business as usual, Lor’themar reflected.  He did very much hope they wouldn’t be facing down two angry Death Knights.

 

As it happened, it was Koltira who heard them approaching, and he signaled to Thassarian to hide.  Neither of them wanted a confrontation with the living, Koltira especially- he was sickened at the very idea of killing his former countrymen.  Luckily, with all the Scourge they’d been killing, Byfrost seemed happy enough to be a simple presence on the edge of his mind, whispering softly but able to be ignored.  That was, in Koltira’s opinion, an excellent thing indeed.  They’d decided that should someone come across them, Koltira should face them alone unless it came to conflict, in which case the two of them could simply subdue their attackers and escape, slip off into some other remote part of the Ghostlands.  He knew Thassarian didn’t like it here, but personally, he had felt an odd sense of peace settle over him as soon as they were within the borders of Quel’thalas- ruined as this part of it was.

He rose warily from where he’d been seated cross-legged on the ground, carefully cleaning the last of the blood from his blade, and waited to see who would approach him.  He saw the flash of steel first, but forced himself not to react even as every muscle in his body tensed.  “Who’s there?” he called in Thalassian- surprised that it still came so easily to him after so many long years of not speaking it save for in his own mind.

The two figures that stepped out of the thick tangle of underbrush were familiar ones, and Koltira wasn’t sure if he should be cursing or cheering.  On one hand, he’d known them in life- had fought beside them and trained with them- but on the other, he hadn’t known them well enough to judge whether or not they would try to attack him simply for being what he now was.  “Peace, brother,” Halduron said cautiously.  “We didn’t come here to fight you.”

“Which is why you both have bare steel in your hands,” Koltira replied, lips quirking just a touch at the platitude.  “Is that truly necessary?”

Halduron gazed at Koltira for a very long moment, then sheathed his blade.  Lor’themar took a bit longer to do the same, but when he did, Koltira sheathed Byfrost as well and gestured them further into the clearing.  “My rangers have brought me news of the Scourge you’ve been killing,” Halduron said, still taking great care with his words.  “A welcome bit of aid.”

Koltira bowed his head very slightly in acknowledgement of the thanks.  “It is… the least I can do,” he said quietly.  “I failed Quel’thalas in life.”

“If you did, we all did,” Lor’themar replied, speaking up at last and looking at him with a touch of sympathy.  “None of us were able to stop Arthas before he killed our king and defiled the Sunwell.  That’s neither here nor there, however… the Sunwell has been returned to its former glory and Arthas has been returned to whatever hell he came from- and good riddance to him.”

“Many sin’dorei Death Knights have come home, but they never stay long,” Halduron said thoughtfully.

Koltira felt a wry smile tugging at his lips.  “Try coming home and being called a monster, especially when you know it to be true,” he said quietly.  “I don’t blame them for leaving.  I had hoped to stay here undetected and kill as much of the Scourge that remains as I could.”

Lor’themar nodded, sharp gaze going to the trees.  “Indeed, and we’ve no quarrel with that- trust me.  We did hear, however, that you’ve another Death Knight with you… a human.  Where is he?”

“Nearby.”  Koltira shifted his weight slightly, eying the two men in front of him.  He’d thought they’d done a better job of hiding their presence, but the Rangers had sharper eyes than he’d expected.  “He is here for the same reason I am- no more, no less.”  It was difficult to speak calmly and politely- Thassarian was most likely trying to stifle laughter, he reasoned- but he had to try.

Halduron glanced at Lor’themar again, then back at Koltira.  “Let us see that for ourselves, if you don’t mind,” he requested- a gentle demand, perhaps.  “We’ve no desire for there to be any trouble, but you must realize that humans are not welcome in Quel’thalas.”

Koltira scowled slightly.  “He is with me, and that should be enough.  Not all of us are so embroiled in the wrongs of the past that we cannot see good when it is in front of us.”  He was fervently glad Thassarian’s grip on Thalassian was shaky at best, because he really did believe what he was saying.  Thassarian was good, at least better than Koltira could ever aspire to be.

“And that is what we wish to see for ourselves,” Lor’themar replied, his tone still neutral and expression calm.  “Koltira- I regret that I did not know you better in life, but surely you understand our stance.  The Alliance stood back and watched Arthas murder us.  We’ve no reason to believe your companion was involved in that, but we must see that he means no harm to those who do still live here.”

And what would you do if you knew the truth?  Koltira asked silently, leveling his gaze on Lor’themar.  Thassarian stained the ground with the blood of Quel’thalas’ defenders, mine included.  “Very well,” he finally said quietly, and switched to common.  “Thassarian- you can come out now.”

Thassarian did, warily, though his blades were sheathed.  He moved carefully, poised to strike as needed to defend both Koltira and himself.  After being so long without him there was absolutely no way he would risk losing him again.  “Who are these… visitors?” he asked, for lack of a better word.

Koltira didn’t feel any better about the situation until Thassarian was at his side, and then he was able to relax slightly.  “The Regent-Lord of Quel’thalas, Lor’themar Theron… and Ranger-General Halduron Brightwing.”  He glanced up at Thassarian with a slight smirk.  “It seems word of our deeds has reached the capitol.”  And yes, I realize you’re never going to let me hear the end of this.  So much for remaining undetected.

Thassarian raised his eyebrows and bowed before the two.  “My lords,” he said, tone a bit suspicious.  “It’s unusual that men of such high rank would come chasing a report of Death Knights handling the Scourge infestation.”

Halduron smiled ever so slightly and inclined his head a bit.  “We prefer to discover on our own what reports come in,” he said, speaking Common in the same lilting accent that Koltira still, to this day, spoke with.  “It is also unusual that a human would come so boldly into our lands- even accompanied by a sin’dorei.”

Koltira finally bristled.  “I am no such thing,” he replied, a hint of ice in his voice.  “My king was Anasterian, and I was dead long before Prince Kael’thas declared our people reborn.  Bathed in blood I may be, but I remain a quel’dorei.”

Thassarian could have wished Koltira had kept his mouth shut, but that would be wasted time- Koltira never kept his mouth shut.  “I think the meaning isn’t lost,” he said calmly, trying to smooth his high-strung companion’s bristled feathers and make sure the two lords before them didn’t take undue offense.  “Koltira and I have long battled side by side.  When the Death Knights of the Ebon Hand were allowed to rejoin their former factions, I went to the Alliance and Koltira the Horde.”

Lor’themar was nodding, even relaxing a little as Thassarian spoke.  “We did hear about Koltira’s encounter with Sylvanas,” he mused.  “Not much after, to be sure, but…” He trailed off, lifting an eyebrow.

“There’s not much to say about it,” Koltira replied shortly.  “I displeased her and was punished.”  His patience was rapidly fading, and it was obvious.

Thassarian winced.  “Koltira, you would have been absolutely lost as a diplomat,” he murmured, quiet enough that the other two couldn’t hear him- he hoped.  He spoke up, then, hoping that Koltira might actually keep quiet.  “He speaks the truth.  She tortured him and released him.  We decided that we’d spent too much time apart after being together so long, and joined forces again.”  That was the truth as well, though a highly truncated version of it.

Halduron chuckled softly and lifted his hands in a gesture of peace.  “I fear we are trying your patience,” he said to Koltira.  “Forgive me, it’s not our intention to upset you further.  I believe we are satisfied…?”  He glanced at Lor’themar, who nodded, and then looked back at the two of them.  “Very well.  You may remain here, but be warned- avoid the settlements and the border with Eversong Woods.  The guards will attack your companion without thought, and I don’t want to see anyone come to harm.  Beyond that… the Forsaken also have settlements here.  You should do your best to avoid those as well.”

Koltira’s eyes narrowed sharply.  “The Forsaken?  Why are they here?”

Lor’themar shrugged.  “I share your disgust,” he said, “though I admit I’m a bit surprised by it given your alliance with Sylvanas.  They are here to offer the same assistance you are, though I find their methods… unsavory.”  He glanced at Thassarian a bit warily.  “This will be the first time I have allowed a human to remain in our lands, Scourge-infested or not.  Don’t give me cause to regret it.”

“I am only here because of Koltira,” Thassarian answered honestly.  “If I had things my way, we wouldn’t be.”  Koltira shot him a furious glance, but he remained calm.  “The Scourge has to go, nevertheless, and it’s not a bad thing for us to handle this.”

Lor’themar gave him a long look, then gestured for him to follow him.  “I would speak with you in private,” he said.  “Assuming you don’t mind.”

Thassarian nodded, but Koltira grabbed his arm and held tight.  He looked at the infuriated Death Knight and smiled faintly.  “Don’t worry.  If he wanted to kill me, he would have tried by now… and I think he knows it would take him a lot of effort.”

“Indeed,” Lor’themar replied, sounding slightly amused.  “I simply want to talk, that’s all.”  It took a moment for Koltira to let go, but he finally did- reluctantly.  Lor’themar led him a bit away from Koltira and Halduron and leaned against a tree, regarding him curiously.  “I admit, I believe your story… but there is more I wish to know, and I fear I risk Koltira’s ire by asking further questions with him present.”

Thassarian sighed.  “Risking Koltira’s ire is something I do daily, and the consequences aren’t usually dire enough for me to try and avoid it.”  He looked at Lor’themar steadily.  “What can I do for you?”

“I want to know why Sylvanas wants him so badly,” Lor’themar replied, glancing over his shoulder toward the other two- probably to make sure no blood had been shed.  “She’s typically not quite so… enthusiastic, shall we say.  She sent a missive three days ago asking me to let her know if I’d seen or heard of him in Quel’thalas.”

“I honestly have no idea.”  Thassarian leaned against a tree as well, pondering the strange events that had led him here- having a conversation with the Regent-Lord as though he were King Wrynn, which was very strange indeed.  “She thinks his bond with me is a weakness in him.”

Lor’themar’s brow knit in confusion.  “I don’t claim to understand how Death Knights or Forsaken work, but I would imagine such a bond serves the same purpose to the living as to the dead… and I can see her point in that attachments can make ones choices unwise, on occasion.  What did Koltira do to earn such a fate?”

“We made a bargain regarding Andorhal,” Thassarian said, now choosing his words carefully again.  “I was in charge of the Alliance forces.  We wanted to avoid further loss of life, but… Sylvanas unleashed the Val’kyr.  You know what they are?”

Lor’themar’s expression had gone dark, and he nodded.  “I know,” he said grimly.  “I knew she was playing at something, but I didn’t know what exactly.  She has been raising the dead for quite some time now to bolster her own troops.  I think it occurred to her that her race was doomed simply because they cannot reproduce.”

Thassarian hadn’t been aware, and the knowledge was like a punch in the gut.  He looked back toward the small clearing where Koltira was, suddenly feeling sick.  “Then I can only imagine what she intended on doing with him,” he murmured, “and none of it is good for any of us, much less for Koltira himself.”

“Koltira was killed when Quel’thalas fell,” Lor’themar said with a nod.  “Halduron is the one who found what was left of his brother.  We assumed that he might have been scattered there as well, but… he was seen in Northrend when the fight against the Lich King began, when he went to Agmar’s Hammer to offer his services.  Thus ended that particular hope.”  He sighed and tugged at his long ponytail.  “It would have been better for him to have been left behind.”

“Perhaps,” Thassarian replied, voice entirely neutral.  “You could say that for all of us, Lord Theron.  As it is, he and I are both here, and we would like to stay out of Sylvanas’ sight for a little while longer.”

Lor’themar smiled at him.  “You’ve nothing to fear from Halduron and myself.  We aren’t going to tell her.  Should she find out you’re here, well, we can tell her that Koltira is now in the service of Quel’thalas and is helping with our Scourge problem.  That’s true enough.  As for you… does your Alliance commander know you’re here?”

Thassarian shook his head.  “No.  Koltira captured me on Mount Hyjal, and I am guessing that’s fairly well-known by now.  I had thought to send a message, but that was before we ended up here… so I’m biding my time.”

“I see.”  Lor’themar glanced toward the clearing again, then back at Thassarian, studying him closely before pushing away from the tree.  “Very well.  Feel free to kill as many of the Scourge as you want to, but heed Halduron’s warnings.  If any of my people die on account of you, it will end badly.”

They already have, Thassarian thought, but he nodded once as he began to understand what Koltira had meant by business left unfinished.  “We are simply here to clean up the mess.  Once it’s finished… we’ll take our leave.”

After Lor’themar and Halduron had left, Koltira had turned to face Thassarian with eyes blazing.  “What did he say?” he demanded.  “What did he want from you?”

Thassarian truly had to resist the urge to grab Koltira by the shoulders and shake him.  Instead, he pulled him into a swift hug and released him before he could get violent.  “He wanted to know why Sylvanas wants you,” he replied truthfully, “and to remind us to heed the warning to avoid villages and the borders.  I think he’s made huge strides in allowing me to stay here, Koltira.”

Koltira scowled at him and sat back down, drawing Byfrost and going back to polishing it as he had been before the two lords had found them.  “Damn them both,” he hissed.  “They could have simply left us alone!”

“Yes, they would have ignored reports of a human in their lands,” Thassarian replied dryly, sitting nearby and watching Koltira as he worked.  “Did you honestly expect us to go undetected forever?”

“Forever?  No.  Longer than a week?  Yes.”  Koltira glared around at the trees before giving up on Byfrost and sheathing it again, jumping up and pacing in a fit of temper.  “The two of them- they think they have the right to ask those questions of us, as if they could ever hope to understand!”

“They ask because they don’t understand,” Thassarian replied, knowing his words were most likely going in one ear and out the other.  “Be glad they asked instead of falling upon us with an army of Rangers.  I’m sure we could have fought our way out, but…”

Koltira was about to weave a tapestry of obscenities when he thought better of it and shut his mouth, glaring silently toward Eversong Woods and Silvermoon City.  “And yet he dared call me a Blood Elf,” he breathed, as if that was the greatest offense of all of them.  “Let them call themselves that all they wish… let them forget the king they served to wallow in pain!  Don’t they know that will lead to further ruin?”

Thassarian didn’t know enough about this particular point of contention to say much, but he did know Koltira continued to identify himself as a high elf just as Thassarian continued to identify himself as a human.  Those things, at least, hadn’t changed when death had claimed them both… in Northrend for one, here in Quel’thalas for the other, who shook with silent fury.  “It is possible that we don’t know the true extent of their suffering,” he finally ventured carefully, knowing in this mood Koltira may well draw Byfrost on him.  “Arthas mowed them down and corrupted the Sunwell, Kael’thas destroyed it to avoid further loss of life and disappeared into the Outlands- where, arguably, it may have been better had he simply died.”  Koltira shot him a glare and he looked back calmly.  “Did you know him?”

“No,” Koltira said shortly.  “Faltora and I were minor nobility at best- we rose through the ranks of the Farstriders together.  I saw the prince at a distance, as did most, but he spent the majority of his time in Dalaran.”  He cast another baleful look north, then exhaled and sat back down slowly, the anger seeming to drain out of him as though he simply didn’t have the strength to support it.

Despite Koltira’s frigid exterior, Thassarian could tell that this was taking a toll on him.  He hesitated and then moved until he was sitting right next to the elf, though he didn’t touch him- he knew better than that.  “There’s little point in worrying about it now,” he said, his voice unusually gentle.  “We’re here and we’ve got permission to stay and keep taking care of the Scourge- which is what you wanted all along.  We’ll do that and then take our leave.”

Koltira nodded slowly, then rose in one graceful motion despite the armor and the weight of Byfrost on his back.  “Let's get back to work,” he said- and he offered his hand to Thassarian, hauling him up off the ground.  “There’s much to be done.”

 

For his part, Lor’themar was relatively at ease with the decision he’d made.  The human seemed straightforward and honest- for a human- and though Koltira was no longer the elf he’d known briefly in life, he seemed trustworthy… if not a tad temperamental.  As the two rode back toward Silvermoon, Lor’themar looked over at Halduron, who was deep in thought.  “A copper for your thoughts,” he offered, “though I’m fairly certain they’re worth more than that.”

Halduron glanced back and smirked faintly.  “Sometimes.  In this case, I’m just thinking about those two.  It’s strange that they’re here, but… I think I can understand why Koltira wanted to come back.  He said he failed Quel’thalas in life, and often spirits are trapped in a place where they can’t move on if they feel they’ve got something left to do.  He’s not a spirit, but… he’s certainly not alive.”

“Not entirely dead, either,” Lor’themar pointed out.  “He’s far from the mindless undead that have plagued us for so long… and with the Lich King’s influence over the Death Knights gone, he’s not far different from a living elf would be.”  He frowned, looking back toward the capital.  “Except for the fact that he’s got a short fuse and seems very bitter, but I’m hard-pressed to blame him for it.”

“Indeed.”  Halduron shuddered a little.  “Being around him disturbs me, I’ll admit.  That could have happened to either of us.”

Lor’themar nodded.  “It could have, but it didn’t.  You and I are alive, and if I have my way, we will be for a very long time.”  He looked at Halduron with a warm smile and reached out to pat him on the shoulder.  “Don’t look so grim!  We’ve got a solution to our Scourge problem, for the moment, and I for one am going to be glad for it.”

“I will as well, but I’m going to have Rangers watching them just in case.”  Halduron was nothing if not vigilant, and he had no intention of letting anything bad happen due to a moment of idiocy on their part for letting the Death Knights stay.  “So long as they keep their word and do what they said they were going to, I’ve got no quarrel with them.”  He paused.  “Still… what did the human say to you?”

“Hm.  I asked him about Koltira and what he did to make Sylvanas so jumpy.”  The Regent-Lord had no true love for Sylvanas- not anymore.  She had been a steadfast commander and friend in life, but death had changed her dramatically… and her choices had forced his distance.  “He seemed to believe it was Koltira’s bond to him that angered her and was the reason she punished him.  In his words, the bond was a weakness that consequently caused her to have to intervene in the battle of Andorhal, otherwise Koltira’s forces would have lost to the Alliance.”

Halduron’s brow furrowed as he listened.  “So… they’re lovers?” he asked, a somewhat unreadable tone in his voice.

“I didn’t ask.”  Lor’themar shrugged, not particularly one to pry into matters that didn’t concern him- especially personal ones.  “I can see her viewpoint, however.  To have a commander with any sort of attachment to the enemy is a huge liability… but torturing him for it?  I think she has other motives… first and foremost, making him into the perfect soldier for her and bending his will just as Arthas did.”  He scowled and spat onto the ground as though speaking the man’s name pained him.  “I wonder if she has forgotten what it was like before she threw off her bonds?”

“It seems she has forgotten much of what it meant to be a decent person,” Halduron replied, tone layered with disgust.  “Either way, she need not trouble us- or Koltira- further for the time being.”  He glanced back over his shoulder, checking to see if anyone was around, then looked at Lor’themar with a faint smile.  “There is something… romantic about love transcending death.”

“Hm…”  Lor’themar looked back at Halduron with a knowing look, a small, warm smile.  “I suppose there is, if that is the case.  Either way, you and I need not worry over it.  I’m afraid the only wars we’ll be fighting any time soon are against Rommath and the rest of the council.”

Halduron scowled.  “You had to bring him up, didn’t you,” he grumbled, shaking his loose hair back from his face.

Lor’themar’s expression became patiently serene- a good sign that he had grown very weary of the two’s constant bickering.  “It wouldn’t kill you to learn to come to terms with him.  I’m not suggesting you become friends, but actually listening to what he has to say on occasion would probably be a good thing.”

“As soon as he says something worth hearing, I will listen,” Halduron replied dryly.  “He hasn’t started yet, and believe me- when he finds out about those two, we will never hear the end of it.”

“I swear,” Lor’themar murmured, “that I will lock the two of you in a magic-proof room and lose the key until you can get along.”  His tone was teasing, but the temptation was very, very strong.  “As for the rest, you’re right- he’ll lose his temper over it at the least.  I’ll take care of that much if you can just try to listen to the points he makes.  All right?”

Halduron rolled his eyes, but he nodded.  “All right, all right.  I’ll do my best.”  It would be difficult at the least, but he, for one, didn’t want to put more strain on Lor’themar than had to be placed on him… and that, he knew, was a lot as it was.  Still, he hoped having the two Death Knights clearing the Ghostlands out would be a step in the right direction, and he was content to leave it at that for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so by now I'm sure most of you have noticed "a couple weeks" ended up being "a couple months". My apologies! I was participating in NaNoWriMo and then the holidays and blah blah excuses. Have a slightly longer chapter to make up for it. :D
> 
> As you've also noticed, I'm playing fast and loose with the lore a little bit. I've read the Death Knight manga but I have NOT played any of the Horde quests (need to get on that), and the fact that in this story Koltira still identifies himself as a high elf IS important and will be very important later. Also it just makes sense because as he points out, he died before Anasterian did (most likely), and Kael'thas was never his king- nor did he ever use fel energy, because he was already dead. It makes sense in my brain. Also, I don't know if he was a Farstrider or not, I don't know if it was ever mentioned- I just guessed that he probably was because he went to serve (the former) Ranger-General Sylvanas instead of going to Lor'themar. That's not super important. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the next one will be... sometime in the future! I'm not making promises on time anymore. :| HOPEFULLY it'll be way sooner than this one ended up being posted.


	3. The Past Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disturbing the rest of someone long-dead typically has dire consequences- save for the Banshee Queen, who will go to any length to get what she wants.

When the sun rose one morning about three weeks later, it found Koltira standing alone in a place he hadn’t been since the invasion- the place he’d first seen Thassarian, and the place where he’d lost his brother.  He looked steadily at what was once An’owyn Citadel, then turned away, walking toward the Dead Scar, tracing his steps to where Faltora had fallen.  He stopped there and closed his eyes, remembering how happy he’d been as they were running that Faltora had been spared… only to lose him seconds later in a manner that still made him feel sick to think about, even dead as he was.  He opened his eyes again and looked up at the sky, then slowly knelt and looked down at the grass before removing his gauntlet and resting his hand lightly on it.  He couldn’t feel it, not like he would have when he was alive, but the symbolism was more than enough.  He’d sworn to himself when Faltora fell that he would continue on, when all he really wanted to do was curl into a tight ball somewhere and weep until he passed out- and had he done as he’d wanted, he would likely be alive.

It amazed him, distantly, how badly he still hurt over that loss.  Death knights did feel emotion, of course, and mostly negative… but Koltira felt Faltora’s loss as keenly as he’d ever felt anything while living.  It hurt to be without him, though it was good that he was gone, Koltira thought glumly- it was better that he didn’t have to see Koltira as he was, trapped in his own corpse, a walking parody of what he once had been.

“There’s a memorial in the city, you know,” a voice said from behind him- one he’d heard once recently and certainly hadn’t expected to hear again.  “You can visit it, but your compatriot has to stay here.”

Koltira closed his eyes and rose slowly, then opened them again and turned to face the owner of the voice- Ranger-General Halduron Brightwing.  “I don’t need to visit any sort of memorial,” he said, his voice somewhat curt.  “This is good enough.”

Halduron nodded slightly, hands clasped behind his back.  “Here… this rightfully belongs to you.”  He drew something out of his belt pouch and offered it to Koltira, whose eyes widened.  It was Faltora’s amulet, the one their mother had given him before he enlisted in the rangers.  “There’s a vault of belongings that were recovered,” he continued.  “Things we felt shouldn’t be destroyed in the fires.”

Koltira hesitated before reaching out and taking it from him, looking down at it in silence.  He didn’t honestly know what to say, and he shifted a little, suddenly uncomfortable with the whole situation.  “Thank you,” he finally murmured, figuring it was good Thassarian wasn’t there- he’d likely have gone into shock at hearing Koltira actually thank someone.

“You’re welcome.”  Halduron watched him for a few seconds more then turned to head back.  Koltira said nothing as he left, and when he disappeared into a tree to travel that way, he looked back down at the amulet in his hand before slowly putting it on and then returning to the beach where he’d left Thassarian.

 

As he walked away, the elf who’d given him the amulet dropped down out of the tree and smirked, pulling the headband off and shaking his hair out.  “It’s as good as done,” he said to a Forsaken apothecary who slipped out from behind the tree he’d been in.  “Heh.  You’re lucky I look enough like the Ranger-General to pass for him to someone who doesn’t see him often.”

The apothecary grinned, which was a horrific sight to the elf- he frowned and looked away.  “Yes indeed,” he replied, “yes indeed… it’s a stroke of luck that we found him here.”

“Hmph.  I suppose you’ll be sending word to your Dark Lady now,” the elf said, quickly tying his hair up into a tight ponytail.  “You have my payment?”

The apothecary dug around in the pockets of his robe until he found what he was looking for, and the gold clinked as he set it in the elf’s waiting hands.  “Thank you for your service,” he replied, and the elf disappeared into the tree again.  The apothecary watched him go, eyes narrowed, then looked around before heading back toward Tranquillien.  He had little use for elves, all in all- he found them too dainty and prone to drama for his tastes.  The elf who’d delivered the amulet wouldn’t even dig up the grave, poor thing… it’s not like there was an actual body in it.  The sin’dorei burned their dead and had an odd notion about burying their armor and personal affects instead- at least, some of them did.  He counted himself very lucky that someone had thought to do so for Faltora Lightweaver, as he could now conveniently be used against his brother.

 

Thassarian looked up when Koltira returned, a bit suspicious as to what kind of mood he was in.  It was never easy to tell with him, and especially as he’d disappeared for an hour into the wilderness, he had an idea of where he’d gone.  “Welcome back,” he said dryly.

Koltira glanced at him absently and then sat down in the sand nearby.  “I ran into Ranger-General Brightwing while I was out,” he said, frowning.  “Funny, but… I only saw the man for a few moments when he came to us in the forests, and maybe three or four times in life, but I swear he looked different.”

That couldn’t mean anything good.  “What did he want?” Thassarian asked, frowning.  That Halduron didn’t look like Koltira remembered probably meant little- Koltira hated the living and paid as little attention to the as possible.

“To give me this.”  Koltira drew something out from under his breastplate, and whatever it was caught the light and sparkled red.

“Jewelry?” Thassarian shifted a little closer and peered at it, then shrugged and sat back.  “I’m tempted to make a rude comment, but as you seem to be in such a good mood, I’ll let it slide.  I don’t suppose you’re feeling charitable enough to tell me what it is?”

“It was Faltora’s.”  Koltira put the amulet back beneath his armor and shot Thassarian a scowl.  “Not that it’s any of your concern, but apparently there are items that were recovered from the fires before the bodies were burned to return to family members.”

That sounded just a little odd to Thassarian, who, while being more amicable than Koltira, did tend to have a suspicious streak a mile wide.  “That’s interesting,” he said slowly.  “Why not bring it up to you sooner?”

“Who knows?  Does it matter?”  Koltira scowled at him.  “It’s Faltora’s, just as I remember, and that’s good enough.”

Thassarian raised his hands in a gesture of peace and shook his head, looking back out at the ocean.  He was _more_ than ready to leave Quel’thalas behind, but Koltira had seemed calmer and more at peace than he’d ever seen him over the past couple of weeks that he hadn’t suggested it.  That someone had magically found his dead brother’s amulet was a bit odd to him, but admittedly, he knew little to nothing of elven customs and rites.  Koltira didn’t find it odd, which was, he supposed, good enough.  He didn’t honestly remember much of his brother… he’d been taller, stronger, and every ounce as reckless as Koltira on a bad day- and he looked somewhat similar, Thassarian figured.  He _thought_ the young elf might have had auburn hair in contrast to Koltira’s gold, but he hadn’t truly been looking for details at the time.

“I think we’ve significantly reduced the population of Scourge in this area,” Thassarian commented.  “I saw birds flying overhead earlier.”

Koltira looked up at the sky and nodded slowly.  “We are making progress,” he said quietly.  “Once this is done… perhaps we can simply disappear somewhere.”

They likely should have done _that_ much awhile ago, but Thassarian didn’t comment along those lines.  “We can go back to Stormwind City,” he said.  “There’ll be plenty for us to do there, I’m sure.”

“I told you I won’t put up with any nonsense regarding my being there,” Koltira warned him.  “If the guards decide to come at me with their swords drawn-“

“I’ll stop them,” Thassarian interrupted, exasperated.  “You’ve nothing to worry about along those lines.  You died a quel’dorei, as you insisted on when the Ranger-General and the Regent-Lord came out here the first time, so there’s no need to quibble over the details right now.”  Koltira glared at him and looked back out at the ocean.  He was definitely more unsettled than he had been in recent memory, Thassarian mused.  “Well, let’s get moving,” he said, rising and rotating his shoulder beneath his armor.  The faster they took care of the Scourge, the faster they could leave before they wore out their welcome… he hoped.

As the day wore on, Thassarian became somewhat worried about Koltira.  He was fighting well enough, but he seemed far more distant than he’d ever been.  It was likely that he was remembering the past, especially now having his brother’s amulet, but Thassarian had never known him to be especially sentimental and couldn’t quite believe he’d let himself become so distracted.  After a few hours of watching him, Thassarian called a halt to their rounds and crossed his arms, watching Koltira with a critical eye.  Koltira had leaned back against a tree and absently lifted a hand to his collarbone- or at least, where it was beneath his armor- and his blue eyes gazed into the distance.

“Koltira,” Thassarian finally said, frown deepening.  “You’re going to get yourself seriously hurt if you don’t start paying attention.”

“I’m fine.”  Koltira glanced at him and scowled, then looked back into the distance before pushing himself away from the tree.  “I’m going to go to Silvermoon.  Wait for me at the beach.”

Thassarian’s jaw dropped.  “Silvermoon?  Koltira, are you _mad_?  If Sylvanas finds out you’re here-“

“She won’t,” Koltira interrupted, shooting him a glare.  “You’re worrying too much over nothing.  I’ll return shortly.”

Although he knew there was little he could do to keep Koltira put, Thassarian still reached out to clasp his shoulder.  “You are acting too oddly for me to want to let you out of my sight,” he said firmly.  “Why do you want to go to the city?”

Koltira tried to jerk away from him, but Thassarian tightened his grip and put his hand on the other shoulder as well.  “Let me go, Thassarian,” he began angrily, but Thassarian interrupted him again.

“You’ve been acting oddly all morning,” he snapped back, hoping that by a small show of temper on his own part, Koltira would listen to him.  “Even in the face of all of this, it’s unlike you, Koltira- and if you think I’m going to let you out of my sight, you have completely lost your mind!”

“You have no say over what I do!” Koltira’s yell startled Thassarian enough to loosen his grip, and the elf jerked away from him and glared fiercely at him.  “You’d do well to remember that!  Just because I agreed it would be foolish to part doesn’t mean you have any hold over me beyond that.”

Thassarian grit his teeth.  Koltira had always been this way, he reminded himself, and after a tantrum and a few hours he’d inevitably calm down and return.  “Fine,” he replied, knowing he was making a mistake but not seeing a way to stop it from happening.  “Go, then.”  He watched Koltira disappear into the forest and cursed quietly to himself, then headed back for the beach before stopping in his tracks and looking over his shoulder in the direction Koltira had gone.  He knew he wouldn’t be able to follow him- not without risking the lives of innocent guards simply doing their duty- and that vexed him beyond belief.  “Damn you, Koltira,” he growled- and, helplessly, he went back to the shore to wait for him.

The sun set and rose again before Thassarian decided, out of desperation, to somehow get word to someone who might be able to help him.  He knew that they were almost always being watched, and so he ventured back into the forests in hopes of attracting the attention of one of the rangers.  It wasn’t hard, he discovered- he only had to come within a short distance of the border before one dropped out of a tree in front of him.  She was a pretty thing, he figured, though most elves were- and the stern expression she wore didn’t suit her.

“Stay away from the border,” she warned.  “You know you aren’t allowed, Death Knight.”

“I have no intention on going without permission,” Thassarian replied.  “I need your help.  Koltira went to the capital yesterday and hasn’t returned.”

The ranger’s eyebrows knit.  “Why does that concern you?  Quel’thalas is his home, and Horde death knights can come and go as they please.”

Thassarian shook his head.  “I realize that- and if you knew Koltira, you’d know why it’s strange.  As it happens, Ranger-General Brightwing brought him something yesterday…” He trailed off as the ranger’s expression turned to one of confusion.  “What?”

“That’s impossible.  Ranger-General Brightwing was in meetings with the Regent-Lord all day.  He didn’t go on patrol yesterday.”  She shifted her weight and glanced over her shoulder toward the city, then looked back at Thassarian.  “Wait here and I will investigate.  Do _not_ go any closer to Eversong Woods.”

Thassarian had to resist the urge to sigh and simply nodded.  “Very well,” he said, and in the blink of an eye she disappeared.

Less than an hour went by before the ranger returned, and with her was the Ranger-General himself.  Halduron nodded slightly to Thassarian.  “Selara told me what concerns you.  Koltira said I gave him something yesterday?”

“Yes- his brother’s amulet.  Koltira said it was kept in some sort of vault along with the belongings of others who fell, in case family ever returned to claim them.”  Thassarian watched both of their expressions darkened, and he pressed his lips into a thin line.  “I’m guessing that was a lie.”

Halduron nodded grimly.  “We burn our dead, but it is customary to bury something of theirs- there’s a large memorial on Sunstrider Isle for those who fell in the Scourge invasion.  I placed Faltora’s amulet myself, along with the belongings of all the other rangers and Farstriders who fell and had no family left.”  He cursed quietly and glanced back, then at Thassarian again, seeming to reach a decision.  “Come with me.  We need to speak to the Regent-Lord, and with this development… I don’t want to bring him out here.”

Thassarian raised his eyebrows, but nodded as well and accompanied Halduron back to Silvermoon City.  This was, he reflected, not someplace he’d ever expected to see again… and he hadn’t ever been in the city proper- he’d fought Koltira in the forest.  A flash of anxiety went through him, then, and he grit his teeth.  “I’m assuming it’s safe to say Sylvanas has him again,” he ground out.

“I’m afraid that may be the case,” Halduron replied, glancing at him as they walked.  “I’m sorry.  … don’t worry- we will do whatever we can to recover him.”  He looked ahead again and shook his head.  “I don’t understand why she wants him so badly- I didn’t discuss it again with Lor’themar after the day we met you in the forest.”

“Your Regent-Lord mentioned that she’s been raising corpses just as Arthas used to,” Thassarian replied, his voice colder than usual due to worry and anger.  “Given that, and given what Koltira is, it’s possible she will take him apart piece by piece to find out how the necromancy that brought us back works- and how to control us just like the Lich King did.  I don’t particularly want to speculate on the rest.”

“Neither do I,” Halduron said, a scowl briefly twisting his handsome features.  “By the Light, but she disgusts me!  Come, let’s hurry- we don’t want to waste more time than we need to.”

Thassarian barely had any time to look around the city as they hurried for Sunfury Spire, but what he did see was lovely- and he understood why Koltira wanted to stay away.  If his own village still stood, he reasoned, he’d likely want to avoid it as well- but more than that, he likely thought back to when his family was still alive.  At least Thassarian had Leyrissa… that helped a great deal.  Not for the first time, Thassarian cursed the abomination that had cleaved Faltora in two.  He’d always thought Koltira might be less bitter, less angry, if his brother were still alive.

The palace itself was a marvel, and Thassarian stared openly as they hurried through the hallways and up the staircases.  Halduron glanced over at him and smiled briefly.  “It must seem very strange to a human,” he said.  “Our Horde allies don’t particularly care for all the stairs they have to climb.”

“It’s different from Stormwind Keep,” Thassarian admitted.  The castle in Stormwind was also a fortress- this spire seemed built for beauty and appeal more than anything else.

The Regent-Lord’s office was on the top floor of the spire, marked by huge double-doors that the guards opened as Halduron approached.  There was a sitting room beyond that with a normal-sized door, and Halduron knocked before pushing it open when Lor’themar called for him to do so.  Lor’themar looked up when they came in, and rose from his chair with a frown- and a bit of alarm- when he saw Thassarian.  “Where’s Koltira?” he asked immediately.

“Missing,” Thassarian said grimly.  “Someone posing as your Ranger-General brought him an amulet they claim was his brother’s- and he accepted it as such, which means it was close enough to truth.  He was acting oddly all morning after that and told me he was going to visit the city, but would be back within a few hours.  He never returned.”

Lor’themar cursed and grabbed his sword, belting it to his waist.  “Come on,” he said, “though I fear we’re far too late.  I know where Koltira would have gone if he truly came back to the city.  Tell me the story on the way.”

Thassarian did so as they hurried through the city to the north, toward Sunstrider Isle.  “I thought he was acting oddly,” he said as he finished the story.  “Even for him- that sort of behavior isn’t normal.  Whatever was done to that amulet was enough to lure him away.  He’s not stupid enough to leave on his own, not when Sylvanas wants him so badly.”

“If she has him, I’ll do what I can to free him,” Lor’themar promised.  “It would not be in any of our best interests if she experiments on him- least of all his.”

As they approached the memorial, there were several mourners lingering who quickly moved back when they saw the Regent-Lord and the Ranger-General approaching… and they stared openly at Thassarian.  Halduron walked through the rows of stones and finally crouched next to one.  There were several names inscribed on it, and he nodded slightly.  “Here,” he said softly.  He murmured something in his own language and Lor’themar replied, and then Halduron reached out and carefully moved the stone aside.  They all stared grimly at the recently-disturbed soil.  “So it truly is Faltora’s amulet,” Halduron said, glancing at Thassarian.  “We’ve run out of time.”  He put the stone back and rose, looking at Lor’themar again.  The two had a quick conversation, and Lor’themar looked at Thassarian.  “I want you to stay in the spire while Halduron and I go to the Undercity,” he said firmly.  “We don’t know what Sylvanas is playing at, but if she gets you in addition to Koltira, that will only help her with whatever she’s planning.”

Thassarian nodded slightly.  “I can do that,” he said quietly, “but before you go, there’s something about him you have to know.”

Halduron tilted his head.  “What is it?” he asked curiously.

“I’ll tell you on the way back to the palace,” Thassarian replied, and the three hurried back toward the city.  He felt sick- he was deeply afraid he’d never see Koltira again, and he couldn’t stop cursing himself for letting Koltira leave.  The last words they’d spoken to one another were words of anger, at least on Koltira’s part, and that was hard to deal with… and harder still to put his fate in the hands of other people- but he knew Sylvanas wouldn’t simply release him this time.  Whatever she was planning, the clock was ticking, and he had a sinking feeling that Koltira’s time was almost up.

 

Sylvanas was feeling very pleased with herself indeed as she looked into the cell where Koltira Deathweaver was once again chained to the wall.  The enraged death knight had been forcibly sedated- he’d killed four guards and two apothecaries before they’d managed to get him under control- and was currently completely helpless.  She looked at the amulet resting in her hand and frowned ever so slightly.  She did feel a _touch_ guilty for using his brother against him, and she could certainly understand his fury when he discovered what had been done to him, but he didn’t realize just how important he was to her cause.  She needed him more than she’d ever needed anyone at that point.

Pocketing the amulet, she turned to the apothecaries and nodded.  “Let’s begin,” she said, her lips curving into a smile.  “The longer we wait, the more chance there is of interruption.”

As she walked back to her throne room, Sylvanas considered all the options that now lay before her.  It would only be a matter of time before the human death knight alerted Halduron and Lor’themar that Koltira hadn’t returned, and she didn’t know how long that would be, but she had several ideas for how to hold them off.  Lor’themar despised her now, she knew, and that was something that occasionally pained her- but what she did for her people was as necessary as what he did for his.  If he couldn’t understand that, well, that wasn’t entirely her problem.

The other banshees bowed to her as she approached, and she nodded in acknowledgement before settling in on her throne and drawing the amulet out to look at it again.  She hadn’t known either of the brothers in life beyond passing- they were Farstriders, and so she knew of them and had likely spoken with them once or twice, but there wasn’t much that came to mind about them.  Again, she felt somewhat guilty- at least momentarily- at disturbing Faltora’s amulet.  She remembered her own anger and pain when a hapless adventurer had brought her own back to her, a gift from her long-missing sister, Alleria… and she scowled into the darkness of the throne room.  Attachments such as those could only bring pain, she reasoned, and though she could understand his anger, she could easily remove it from him.  When she was finished with him, he would be hers completely- and she would be one step closer to redeeming not only herself, but all the Forsaken.

A slight commotion outside the throne room caught her attention, and her lovely features drew into a frown as she rose, quickly pocketing the amulet again.  “Let them pass,” she called, and she watched as both Lor’themar and Halduron walked toward her dais.  “Well, well,” she said, walking to the top of the stairs and looking down at them.  “You two are certainly a long way from home.”

Halduron stared grimly at her, and Lor’themar simply brushed his fingertips over the crimson scarf pulled over his mouth and nose.  “We’re not here for pleasure, Sylvanas,” he said coolly.  “We’re here about the death knight, Koltira.”

Sylvanas arched a brow at them.  “The one _I_ sent _you_ a missive about?” she reminded them.  “The one _I_ was seeking, and who _I_ found in Quel’thalas?”

“Enough,” Lor’themar replied, his voice now frozen.  “Koltira Deathweaver rejoined the forces of his homeland.  He was stationed in the Ghostlands when he was taken.  What is it that’s so important about him that you would disturb his brother’s resting place to get him back, Sylvanas?  Do you truly have so little respect for your own fallen?”

“That’s nothing that needs to concern you.”  Sylvanas shrugged.  “In any case, Koltira was in my service when he was taken from me, so… all I’ve truly done is recover him.”

“Yes, the human told us all about it,” Halduron said, crossing his arms and glaring at her.  “How you implanted something inside his chest to control him, how you’d sent him to capture Thassarian as well- so you could control him, too, I imagine.”

Sylvanas sniffed, irritated.  How could they be so dense?  She supposed that was a good thing- it wouldn’t do for them to catch on.  “I felt his talents might be better served in my service,” she said smoothly, “and given how close they are- as Koltira nearly lost Andorhal for me due to that closeness- I gave Koltira the opportunity to convince him.  As for Koltira, the rod was simply to enhance his powers.”

Lor’themar’s eye narrowed.  “Surely you don’t expect us to believe that,” he said flatly.  “Come now, you died a quel’dorei- what good could a human possibly do you?”

The quel’dorei had been notoriously racist, though Sylvanas hadn’t been as bad as the rest- she had, in fact, allowed a human to join the Farstriders at one point.  Brushing that off as ancient history, she shrugged.  “Death makes everyone equal,” she replied.  “I have no plans to release Koltira Deathweaver to you, so you may as well go back to Quel’thalas.”

“That doesn’t excuse you from desecrating the memorial,” Halduron said sharply, and Lor’themar shifted a bit next to him in reaction to his display of temper.  “You had someone impersonate me and used his own brother to lure him back against his will.”

“So punish me for it,” Sylvanas challenged.  “I’m not going to argue with you about whose jurisdiction he falls into, but may I remind you that my Forsaken are all that’s helping you hold the Ghostlands?  I would advise you both to let this death knight go and forget about him.”

Lor’themar and Halduron were helpless to do anything about it, and they knew it- and she could see the anger in their eyes.  “This will not improve your position in the Horde,” Lor’themar warned her.  “I can’t force you to turn him over, you’re right, but I can- and will- make your life incredibly difficult.”

Sylvanas smiled grimly.  “If you feel the need to do so,” she replied coolly, and watched the two leave feeling triumphant.  There would be nothing they could do in the time she needed, and whatever happened after that was something she could manipulate in her own time.  For now, things were going her way once again, and that put her in a rare good mood.  Let them tattle to Garrosh about her- there wasn’t much he could do either, when it came right down to it, and she couldn’t see him caring about one death knight.  Having him meant nothing but good things for the Forsaken, in any case, and that was worth almost any price.

 

“Wake up,” a soft voice said, stirring Koltira from his- sleep?  Unconsciousness?  He didn’t know.  He hadn’t felt this way since Sylvanas had captured him the first time.  He slowly opened his eyes and looked around, wondering who had spoken to him, and scowled briefly to see himself back in the cell he’d been in before.  His eyes widened as his hand flew to his throat- the amulet was gone.  He sank back against the wall and cursed himself, closing his eyes again.  He’d become so damn sentimental, so _soft_ , that he’d truly believed Halduron would return his brother’s amulet to him… and that was his own fault.  Of course, he had no way of knowing if the man’s words were true- they obviously weren’t- and the fact that someone had disturbed his brother’s resting place infuriated him even still.  He’d only been able to kill six of the undead who’d come for him before they’d immobilized him, and he had it in his mind to kill at least ten times that number before he was done.

Koltira opened his eyes again and looked around the cell.  There was certainly no way for him to escape on his own- the chains that bound him were heavy iron, attached to shackles at his wrists, ankles, waist, and throat.  He was strong, true, but not strong enough to break them as he knew from his first experience in Sylvanas’s dungeon.  He grit his teeth, staring into the darkness, wondering what exactly was in store for him now.  Thassarian had saved him last time… and he couldn’t hope for that to happen again.  He bit his lip, vaguely remembering their last encounter, how he’d told Thassarian he had no hold over him… and he wondered if Thassarian had known the words to be false.  They weren’t _his_ words, even though he’d spoken them.  He remembered holding Thassarian’s hand tight in Acherus, the occasional night spent leaning against him in Quel’thalas- it was all he could allow himself, all he could allow Thassarian, and he knew it didn’t come close to what they could have had in life… but he hoped Thassarian understood regardless that he _did_ have a hold over him.

That the Forsaken had used Faltora against him- against them both- infuriated him all over again, and he tugged on the chains simply because he could.  He knew it was better to reserve his strength, but it wasn’t as though that would do him any good anyway.  The last time he’d been there they’d simply locked him up until he was weakened enough to be pliable, but this time they had some sort of serum to inject him with, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop them.  He rattled the chains again and swore, then leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.  “Damn them,” he breathed.  “All of them!  Thassarian was right all along!”

That same quiet voice that had told him to wake up spoke up again, then, catching his attention and startling him badly.  “You never were one to listen to good advice.”

“Faltora?”  Koltira looked around, then scowled fiercely and settled back.  “No.  I won’t be tricked again.  Nice try, Sylvanas- but you can’t use him to break me.”  He did wonder, however, if he’d go insane in the meantime… being chained in the darkness, knowing something horrible was coming from him, and hearing voices- none of that was a recipe for sanity, of that he was certain.

“Listen to me,” the voice urged him.  “You have to figure out a way to get out of here!  Bide your time- they have to move you at some point to experiment on you.”

Koltira rolled his eyes.  “That hadn’t occurred to me,” he said sarcastically.  “Thanks for your help.”  He paused, then frowned into the darkness.  “Whoever you are, leave me in peace.  Faltora is long gone, and impersonating him isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

A pale, shimmering figure appeared in the corner of the cell and walked toward him, then crouched in front of him.  “I’m no impersonation,” it- _he_ \- said quietly.

Koltira stared at the spirit for a long time before looking away, then looking back at him.  “Why are you here?” he asked, his voice holding far more pain than he could have hoped for- as if it was a trick, all he was doing was giving Sylvanas more leverage over him.  “You should be long gone…”

Faltora smiled sadly.  “So should you,” he said.  “My soul is tied to the amulet- and Sylvanas has it in her possession.  I doubt she knows I’m here.  I couldn’t move on.”

That was more than he could deal with, and Koltira closed his eyes tightly, a soft keening sound escaping him.  “Why?  Why do you linger here?”

Faltora reached out and let his hand hover lightly over Koltira’s.  “I can’t leave you alone.  I don’t know what’s going to happen, but… there might be something I can do.  Bide your time, Brother, and save your strength.  You’re going to need it.  Don’t let your anger and your grief control you.”

Koltira looked at the ghost again, still not completely believing it was Faltora- it looked like him, sounded like him, spoke like him… but he couldn’t trust anyone, not even himself, in the situation he was in.  Still, it was good advice, and he nodded slightly.  “I will, though the sun knows how I’m going to get myself out of this,” he said quietly.

“You have friends who will help you,” Faltora replied.  “I will help you too.  Be calm…”

Calm wasn’t something Koltira often was, nor had he been when he was alive, and he made a quiet sound that might have been a bitter laugh as he leaned back and closed his eyes again.  In a situation like this, calm was nearly impossible, but he knew Faltora was right… it would be best if he could control himself thoroughly, to wait and watch and listen, and to act as soon as he had the opportunity.  One of those could come at any time, and if he was blinded by rage, he might miss it.  He’d never been very patient, but he knew at this point that was likely what would save him- he could only count on himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh I'm sorry for how long it took me to get this out, but better late than never right? RIGHT? :D;;;; In any case, I'm trying to pick the pace up a little bit so this doesn't end up being twenty billion chapters, as I have a serious tl;dr problem with stories I write. I don't think anyone knows what Koltira's surname was in life, but if that's been revealed somewhere, please let me know so I can correct it here :D I don't know where I picked up Lightweaver, but I liked the sound of it.
> 
> As always, I appreciate your comments and feedback! You can also find me on Tumblr as "sorinsfeatherpen", I'll be posting excerpts from future chapters and other writings there :D


	4. Love Is Not A Victory March

Sometime over the course of the next few days, Sylvanas returned to the prison to visit with Koltira.  The death knight was slumped against the wall and looked, for all the world, defeated- but she knew better.  She hadn't known Koltira in life, though she’d known of him as he was a Farstrider and thus under her command.  From what she was able to glean about him so far she knew he was prideful and willful, but that didn’t say much for how he’d been in life- and without that to use against him, she had to figure out what made him tick.  She unlocked the  door to his cell and walked in, then closed it behind her and leaned against the door, studying him thoughtfully.  He had absolutely no idea how valuable he was, and perhaps giving him a bit of that information would make him more pliable… she certainly didn’t have to reveal all of her cards, nor would she.

“I could restore your beauty, you know,” she said, crouching down a safe distance away- not that he could reach her, chained as he was.

Koltira looked up slowly, dead eyes glowing with hatred.  “What good would that do me?” he replied tersely.  “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m as dead as you are.”

Sylvanas smiled and shrugged.  “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”  She moved closer and knelt in front of him, reaching out to touch his hair.  He jerked his head away, but he couldn’t go far, and she won over.  “What color was it, before?”

“Why do you care?”  Koltira was regarding her suspiciously, and she couldn’t blame him- but she intended to talk him in circles until he let his guard down.  “You used my brother to trick me, had his grave desecrated, and you ask me what color my hair was?”

“Yes.”  Sylvanas smiled again, knowing full well that he was suspicious of her and caring not at all.  “That’s what I’m asking.”

Koltira stared at her hard for a moment, then looked away.  “Blond,” he finally said grudgingly.

Sylvanas nodded thoughtfully.  “I see.  My sister had blond hair.  It was as golden as the sunrise.”  She looked at him and tilted her head.  “And your brother?”

Koltira looked back at her, scowling.  “You’d be better off not ever mentioning him to me again,” he snapped, “most especially since you used him to lure me here.”

“I had no choice.”  Sylvanas shrugged and sat back, resting her hands on her knees.  “You are important.  Aside from being a strong leader, you’re quel’dorei, and there are precious few of those left in the world.”

“Go find an outpost if you’re feeling sentimental,” Koltira muttered, looking away again.

Sylvanas chuckled.  “They’d welcome me just as soon as they’d welcome you,” she replied, amused at his answer.  “You fail to understand me.  You are a quel’dorei death knight- the only one, as far as I know.  Aside from that… you were a Farstrider.  That’s what led you to me in the end, is it not?  Three things that you have in common with me- that’s why you didn’t go back to Quel’thalas.”

Koltira glanced at her again with narrowed eyes.  “I told you when I enlisted in your army that I did so because of the past.  Clearly that was a mistake I’ll be paying for, most likely for a very long time.”

“Don’t think of it that way.  I’ll admit that I wasn’t as forthright with you as I could have been at first.”  Sylvanas settled herself in, wondering how long it would take for her to break through his armor.  “With your brother gone, you have no family left… you had to find a new place in life- in death, rather.  I respected that.”  She raised an eyebrow at him.  “Why, of all people, would you choose a human to befriend?”

“You are wasting your time,” Koltira snapped.  “What is this about, Sylvanas?  Whatever you’re planning to do to me, do it and be done!  We both know you aren’t going to let me go again.”

Sylvanas smiled faintly and shook her head.  “No, I’m not, but it isn’t for the reason that you think.  You have great potential, Koltira, but more than that… I need your help, and this is the only way I can get it.”

Koltira looked at her suspiciously.  “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t believe you,” he finally said coolly.  "I doubt there's anything I can help you with."

“Oh, there is.”  Sylvanas sat back, leaning on her hands and looking up at the ceiling as though she were contemplating the trees above her- she’d often sat like this in life.  She could feel Koltira’s eyes on her and wondered how long it would take for him to come around- but he would, one way or another. “What do you remember most about Quel’thalas?”

The silence drew out for long enough that Sylvanas was beginning to think that playing nice wasn’t going to get her anywhere, but then Koltira spoke, his voice quiet.  “The forests.  I’ve traveled all of Azeroth, and nothing compares.”

Sylvanas mulled that over.  That wasn’t the answer she had expected, and it gave her pause.  Koltira had been a Farstrider, true, which meant he’d spent as much time in the wild as she herself had in doing his duty- though he was younger, she thought.  It was hard to say, looking at him as he was.  “That is true,” she admitted, picturing the glorious forests of their homeland.  “I often think of that as well.”

Koltira shot her a look.  “I’m surprised you think of much beyond your own aims,” he said- and she actually laughed out loud at that.

“You wound me,” she replied, though in reality they both knew that she didn’t care one bit what he said.  She sobered quickly enough when she thought of those particular aims, however, and reminded herself that this game would take time to win.  “It surprises you that I miss my home?”

“All of us do.  That doesn’t change who we’ve become or what we’ve done.”  Koltira looked away again.

Sylvanas could relate to that- and, she found, respect it as well.  “No,” she said slowly, “but we are offered a unique chance, you and I- vengeance from the grave, as it were, though neither you nor I got to taste the sweetness of true peace.  None of my people did- nor did your human friend.”

Koltira looked back at her, dead blue eyes glinting in the dim light.  Were she anyone else, of any other station, she might have found it wise to fear him- but she simply met his gaze and held it, waiting to see what he would say.  “The Lich King has fallen,” he finally said.  “What more vengeance do you need, woman?”

“Arthas has fallen,” Sylvanas replied, spitting the man’s name like a curse.  “There will always be a Lich King.  Think, Koltira!  What is the one thing that we could do to spit in his face, to end this misery?”

Koltira arched a brow at her.  “Other than burning this entire wretched city to the ground with us in it?” he retorted.  “I’m having trouble thinking of anything.”

Sylvanas huffed, letting a bit of her impatience show.  Honestly, Koltira was every bit as dense as Lor’themar and Halduron, but at least he was pliable, and showing just this much of her hand would undoubtedly give him something to think about aside from his own anger.  “Life,” she replied.  “New life, for all of us.”

Silence stretched out for a long moment, the two simply staring at one another.  “So, the rumors are true- you have lost your mind.”  Koltira was regarding her warily.  “Whatever you’re doing with the val’kyr, whatever you think they’ve promised you… I warn you- there are more strings attached than you want to deal with.  You may think you know them well, but I am the one who served under the Lich King all that time when you had broken free.”

“It has nothing to do with them.”  It was her turn to raise an eyebrow, and Sylvanas waited for Koltira to figure it out.  “Think, Death Knight!  What is it that you, that only you, can help me with?  Think back to that day in Quel’thalas!”

Koltira’s eyes narrowed, then widened in sudden realization- and horror.  “You would dare-?!”

“No,” Sylvanas interrupted- she had taken care to make sure that wouldn’t happen, and if Koltira even thought it might, this wouldn’t work without a great deal more effort on her part.  “No,” she continued, trying to be soothing and rather failing.  “Nothing like that, I swear it- I would never.”

The horrified look slowly turned thoughtful.  Koltira turned his face away, then.  “You act as though I have a choice,” he finally said curtly.  “Leave me alone.”

Sylvanas rose smoothly.  She was cackling with glee on the inside- she had given him just enough to mull over, just enough to contemplate and wish for.  “I will return tomorrow, Koltira… and you will help me either way- but it will be far better for you if you agree.”  Koltira didn’t answer, though she hadn’t expected him to, and she walked away feeling triumphant.

 

 

Meanwhile, Thassarian was standing in Lor’themar’s office trying to resist the urge to grind his teeth out of sheer frustration.  The meeting with Sylvanas had gone nowhere, which didn’t surprise him, and neither Lor’themar nor Halduron were exceptionally pleased with that.

“As much as I’d dearly like to, I can’t force her to release him,” Lor’themar was saying, a scowl twisting his handsome features.  “As when she dragged us into the Northrend war, there is ever a reminder that she is the reason we still hold the Ghostlands.”

“In other words, she has you by the balls,” Thassarian muttered, and when he heard Halduron snort- and saw him quickly cover his mouth with his hand- he realized he’d said that louder than he meant to.

Lor’themar’s scowl darkened, but then he sighed and nodded slightly.  “Bluntly, yes,” he said grudgingly.  “Rommath advised me to simply let it go, but I refuse to give an inch of our forests that could be rehabilitated- and she loves to throw it in my face.”

Halduron was sitting in a nearby chair, ankle resting on his knee, gripping it with his free hand.  He dropped the other and shrugged.  “That’s not an option,” he replied, “and it’s just like Rommath to suggest it.  As for me, I don’t like giving up- and that includes in this situation.”

Thassarian was glad to have the Ranger-General’s support, and he paced across the room before turning back.  “Sylvanas has probably acted already,” he said, hating every word as it came out of his mouth.  “Much as I want to take the Undercity apart stone by stone until I reach Koltira, it’s likely too late- and now we have to figure out what she wanted him for before we find out the hard way.”  He couldn’t help but hold onto a scrap of hope, to believe that _maybe_ Koltira would come out of this all right… but he knew the chances of that were slim, and if he thought on it too long, he’d go mad.

“Easier said than done, as always.”  Lor’themar sat down heavily behind his desk and looked at the papers on it blankly, then lifted his gaze to Thassarian.  “Start from the beginning- tell me everything you think I need to know about Koltira.  You already mentioned your bargain at Andorhal, which I must admit I respect, and while I’m sure it infuriated her I can’t imagine that is the only reason she wanted him.  How did you meet him, and where?”

As much as Thassarian wanted to avoid that question, he couldn’t.  “I met him here, during the invasion,” he said, keeping his voice as controlled as possible.  “I battled his brother at An’owyn and defeated him- but it wasn’t me who killed him.  I let him go, and the two ran, but it was an abomination that cut him down.”  He closed his eyes briefly, then continued.  “Koltira came after me.  He offered me a chance to leave the misery I was in and join him in defending Quel’thalas.”

Halduron stared at him.  “You’re the one who took the crystal-?”

“Yes.”  Thassarian glanced at Halduron and nodded slightly.  “I wish I could have kept that from happening, but I was firmly under the Lich King’s control… which is why, instead of accepting Koltira’s offer, I warned him away and let him go again.  I had hoped he would retreat from the field, but I met him again at the Elfgate, and then I had no choice.  We fought, I won, and I raised him- but I made his death very quick.  We have been together since then.”

Lor’themar studied Thassarian thoughtfully.  “You let his brother go, and you let him go until he confronted you again… why let them go at all?”

Thassarian shook his head.  “I had enough humanity left in me to hate what I was doing,” he said quietly.  “I killed my own mother to prove my loyalty, and the memory of her is what stopped me from killing Faltora in that very same fashion.  Koltira, I thought, came after me in a fit of grief-torn madness.  I believe he truly thought he could turn me from the path I was on, but it was impossible- as he discovered when he became a death knight himself.  We have… a strong friendship, I think.  We killed so many that day, but the only one I raised was Koltira.”

“Why not leave him?”  Halduron was frowning, but he didn’t seem angry, for which Thassarian was thankful- the two could easily turn on him in a blink, given his past and his affiliation with the Alliance.  “Why raise him at all?”

Thassarian was quiet for a long moment.  “When he first confronted me after his brother’s death, I called him a coward… but then I realized that wasn’t the case- he was reckless and foolish, but he was no coward.  He faced me bravely the next time we met, though I could see in his eyes that he knew he was doomed.  He warned me- he told me that if I killed him, I would be damning my soul forever.  I already knew that was the case, and I didn’t care- I knew he would be a valuable ally.  He was fearless, and he accepted his death as a warrior should.”

Lor’themar nodded slightly.  “I didn’t know him, but if he was a Farstrider, that doesn’t surprise me to hear.  What else can you think of?”

Thassarian thanked his lucky stars for Lor’themar’s non-reaction and pondered the question.  “Honestly, not much,” he finally mused.  “Koltira mentioned, once we got to Northrend, that he was being haunted by shadows… I assumed it had something to do with the magic in him, in all of you quel’dorei- sin’dorei, now.”

Halduron frowned thoughtfully.  “All of us can use magic to some degree,” he said, “though most Farstriders don’t hone their abilities.  Can Koltira use it?”

“Yes,” Thassarian replied with a slight nod.  “Most death knights can as well, whether or not they could in life- I’d imagine a rock had more ability than I ever did.  Koltira wields unholy magic and is strengthened by his blade, Byfrost.”  His expression darkened.  “My concern is for what Sylvanas will do when she figures out Byfrost’s true abilities- and I’ve no doubt she will, at this point.  It’s a vampiric blade, using the energy of whatever- or whomever- Koltira has killed to give him more power.  There’s a downside to that for Koltira, of course, in that he has to kill to satisfy not only Byfrost, but his bloodlust as well.  If the blood frenzy gets hold of him… well.  It’s hard to say what he’ll do, or be forced to do.”

“That sounds ominous.”  Halduron glanced at Lor’themar and the two had a quick conversation in Thalassian.  Koltira had taught him some here and there, but not enough to understand what they meant- and most of what he’d taught wasn’t fit to repeat in polite company.  The Ranger-General nodded and rose, looking at Thassarian with a brief smile.  “I’m going to look into a couple things.  I don’t know what result I’ll have, but it’s worth a try.  Meanwhile, you are welcome to stay in Quel’thalas until we have some sort of plan… but I would suggest returning to your work in the Ghostlands.  If Sylvanas believes that we are taking no further action, she’ll be more likely to show her hand.”

Lor’themar nodded in agreement.  “You seem like a reasonable man, and more than that, you will likely be instrumental in recovering Koltira.  Wait here and allow us to come to you- and I swear to you, we are not simply putting you off.  Halduron has a few ideas to act on, and there is still hope.”

Thassarian rose and bowed slightly.  Lor’themar wasn’t an authority figure he had to respect, but nonetheless he _did_ respect what he’d seen so far.  “Very well.  I will continue culling the scourge and hope that you are correct.”

Halduron led him out and softened a bit.  “I know Koltira is important to you,” he murmured.  “I have a few tricks up my sleeve- the information you gave us is very helpful.  I will send for you soon.”

“Thank you,” Thassarian replied, and shortly found himself on a dragonhawk and heading back to the Ghostlands.  When the creature dropped him off near the same clearing where he’d first met Lor’themar and Halduron, Thassarian had to count to ten and then ten again to avoid completely losing his temper.  He knew Halduron and Lor’themar were doing their best, and they certainly didn’t have to- Sylvanas was the target of his rage, and with any luck he’d be able to vent it on her at some point in the near future.  All he wanted was Koltira back, and the rest of the world could burn for all he cared.  He looked up at the burned branches above him and closed his eyes tight, then set his jaw and drew his swords, deciding to take it out on the scourge in the area.  It was all he _could_ do at the moment, and at the very least he could make sure it was done right.

Days went by with no news, and while Thassarian was typically a patient man, he had less and less as Koltira’s absence wore on.  He was standing on the beach staring mindlessly out at the ocean when he realized someone was behind him, and he turned quickly, one hand instinctively moving up to the hilt of his blade.  His eyes widened when he saw who it was and he quickly dropped his hand.  “General Brightwing,” he greeted, though he was just a touch wary given how Koltira had been lured away.  “You have news?”

Halduron nodded.  “Some, and nothing good,” he said grimly.  “Koltira has been taken from the Undercity.  I had several Farstriders milling about as civilians, and two reported seeing him being taken out of one of the drainage pipes in the middle of the night a day ago… and they boarded a zeppelin heading for Orgrimmar.  The Farstriders will check in when they can, but for now… I’m out of ideas as to what they’re doing with him.”

“Was he…” Thassarian paused, then shook his head.  “Did they get close enough to see if he was all right?”

“He seemed fine, according to the report.”  Halduron smiled quickly.  “It’s hard to say for sure, but I’m told he appeared unharmed.  I know this is frustrating… and I wish I had more news for you, but- it’s another waiting game, I’m afraid.”

Thassarian slowly turned his gaze back to the sea.  “I’ve never been to Orgrimmar,” he said slowly, “for obvious reasons- but Koltira is the one who went to speak with your Warchief on behalf of the death knights.  Is it possible they’re going to speak with Hellscream?”

Halduron’s eyes narrowed.  “Maybe… but I doubt it.  Sylvanas is not Garrosh’s favorite person, and he’s not even half the Warchief that Thrall was.  No matter how you look at it nor what she says, what happened at the Wrathgate was her doing- and everyone knows it.  She isn’t in a position to ask any favors from the Horde.”  He shook his head.  “Furthermore, from there she could take him anywhere- there are portals open to the various areas affected by the Cataclysm, as well as to the Outland.”

“Outland?”  Thassarian paused.  “I’ve never been there, and I know Koltira hasn’t either, but…” He trailed off, thinking hard.  “The Outland is where your prince wound up when he was trying to find a cure for your people, isn’t it?”

“That’s right.”  Halduron shrugged.  “I haven’t been either, and from what I’ve heard it doesn’t sound like a pleasant place.  There are portals in the main city there to various places around Azeroth- in fact, there’s one to Quel’danas, which is how we were able to secure aid from the Aldor and the Scryers.”

Thassarian couldn’t think of a reason why any of that would matter to Sylvanas, and he shrugged slightly.  “I suppose if she wants to go anywhere in the world, she’s certainly able to do so,” he finally said- and then a horrifying thought occurred to him.  He tensed and Halduron sensed his alarm, emerald eyes widening a little.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“When Arthas ordered Quel’thalas sacked, he was after the Sunwell’s energies to resurrect the lich, Kel’thuzad,” Thassarian said, horror growing by the second.  “Koltira and I weren’t there when that happened, but I know some of it.  Sylvanas has been raising corpses all on her own for the Forsaken, and with the Val’kyr…”

Halduron inhaled sharply, then spat several curses in Thalassian- those, Thassarian thought with a touch of grim amusement, he understood perfectly.  “Come with me,” he said, quickly retreating to the forest.  Thassarian followed him, and Halduron swore again.  “I can’t believe it- would she dare?  I don’t want to believe it, but nothing is beneath her now- Lor’themar is going to have a fit when we tell him about this!”

“Best to go straight there and worry about the Regent later,” Thassarian advised, knowing that if they’d left the Undercity in the middle of the night their time was running _very_ short.  “So help me, if she does anything to Koltira…”

The two mounted Halduron’s dragonhawk and Halduron turned it toward Quel’danas, which lay north of Silvermoon City.  “I can’t imagine she’ll waste all this energy and effort on resurrecting him,” he shouted over the rush of the wind.  “If there’s anything you haven’t thought of about Koltira’s powers, now is the time to tell me!”

Thassarian wracked his brain, but he found that he was too panicked to think of much other than getting to Koltira’s side as quickly as possible.  “More than likely she’s going to use him as an experiment,” he finally managed.  “She wouldn’t test this on herself without some sort of reassurance that it will work.  Arthas fouled the Sunwell with Kel’thuzad’s remains, but Koltira is a quel’dorei!  The Sunwell’s energies would be familiar to him, and he would know how to use them _regardless_ of not using magic in life, wouldn’t he?”

Halduron nodded.  “I’m afraid so,” he replied,” and if that’s the case, there is going to be very little we can do to stop her if we don’t beat her there- _damn_ her!”

Were he alive, Thassarian would be sick with worry, but as it was all he felt was a cold knot of dread in the pit of his stomach.  He grit his teeth and focused on what was ahead of them as they flew, the wind bothering him not at all.  Quel’thalas was beautiful, but he saw none of it- his only thought was to get to Koltira as quickly as he possibly could.  Halduron guided the dragonhawk to one of the towers on the island and the two dismounted, heading straight for the entrance to the Plateau.

The guards outside saluted as Halduron approached.  “General Brightwing,” one of them greeted with a nod.  “Lady Sylvanas went inside a little while earlier, but Lord Theron hasn’t been here yet.”

“ _Damn!”_ Halduron turned to Thassarian and opened his mouth to say something, then thought the better of it and turned back to the guards.  “Keep Lord Theron away from here- don’t even mention any of this to him.  Allow nobody else inside without my direct approval, and have the Plateau evacuated _immediately!_ ”

To their credit, the guards didn’t stop to ask questions, they simply saluted again and immediately followed Halduron’s orders.  Thassarian followed the Ranger-General into the Plateau, hoping against everything that they were going to make it in time, that Koltira hadn’t been harmed.  Everything seemed to be happening so blindingly fast after days of nothing, but Thassarian was relieved if only because now he had the chance to _act._   He drew his runeblades when he saw the Forsaken guards approaching them, and Halduron drew his spear.

“Step aside,” Halduron ordered.  “You have no jurisdiction here!”

“Lady Sylvanas doesn’t wish to be disturbed,” one of the guards replied, his voice an odd rattle that made Thassarian think he’d probably been killed by a broken neck.  “Turn back and we will spare your lives!”

Halduron didn’t respond, he simply leapt into action, and Thassarian followed suit.  The guards were pitifully easy to defeat, as were the next two and the following two.  Sylvanas was clearly not expecting the guards to do much, they were simply meant to slow them down- and they were succeeding, at least a little.  The battle was taking precious seconds away from their mission, but Thassarian felt a grim sort of satisfaction every time one of Sylvanas’ minions fell to his blades.  Halduron grit his teeth as his spear took the head off of the last one and glanced at Thassarian.  “You fight well, for a human,” he said with a slight nod as they continued their run through the Plateau.

“And you’re remarkably resilient for an elf,” Thassarian replied, distracted by his worry and fear- but he could understand and appreciate what Halduron was doing.  Any good commander would do his best to keep his soldiers calm in a harrowing situation, and Halduron was among the best- even the Alliance acknowledged his prowess and heroism.  “How much further?”

“This way.”  Halduron led him through several more hallways, up countless flights of stairs, and through various courtyards.  Thassarian was truly lost by that point, but Halduron knew exactly where he was going, and so he followed without comment.  His heart was in his throat as they sprinted ahead, his only thoughts on Koltira and how to save him from this- he didn’t even let himself consider that it might be too late.  That, he simply could not face.

When the two reached the Sunwell chamber they were met by a forcefield sealing it off.  Thassarian put his hands on it and cursed, then stepped back and summoned his magic.  “Stay back!” he yelled as Halduron jumped out of the way, and he unleashed a torrent of frozen energy at the forcefield.  He felt it weaken, but it wasn’t enough to break it, and he closed his eyes tight before holding his hands out, prepared to attack again.  He would give everything, every ounce of energy he had, to break the damn thing and let Halduron and the now-arriving army of Aldor and Scryers get through to Koltira.  _I won’t let you down,_ he thought, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes.  _I swear to you, Koltira, I will get you back or I will meet the true death trying!_

The world seemed to narrow down to the forcefield blocking the doorway, and Thassarian drew a steadying breath- a habit from life, but it helped.  He channeled his energy again, but before he could unleash it, he saw two hands settle on top of his own.  That surprised him a little- the hands were bare save for ornate gauntlets, blue and silver and clearly of elven make, but there was nobody there who would be wearing something like that.

“I will help you, human,” a voice said in his ear, speaking with the same lilting accent as Koltira, as all of the quel’dorei and sin’dorei.  “Koltira is in dire peril- Sylvanas doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into, and he’s going to suffer for it.  We have to hurry!”

Thassarian glanced back over his shoulder and saw a familiar face- though he wasn’t entirely sure why, he’d only seen him once before.  He recognized the smile more than anything, all at once charming and mischievous, though he could count on one hand how many times he’d seen Koltira actually, truly smile.  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” he replied, steadying himself before unleashing another torrent of energy.  _Hang on, Koltira, just hang on- I’m not going to let you fall!_

“It’s working!” Halduron shouted, and when the barrier cracked and splintered, he rushed forward to quickly brace Thassarian, who staggered a bit.  “Are you well?”

“Well enough to fight,” Thassarian said, shaking his head to clear it before straightening and looking at Halduron with a slight nod.  “This could end us both- you don’t have to go any further.”

“I do,” Halduron replied with a quick smile.  “I’m Ranger-General, and the Sunwell is mine to guard.  Come- let’s finish this and figure out what we’re going to do with Sylvanas, aside from wring her neck.”

“She won’t live to see another day if I have my way,” Thassarian said curtly, drawing his rune blades again and holding them at the ready.

Halduron nodded slightly.  “She has lost everything she stood for,” he murmured.  “I, for one, wouldn’t be sad to see that happen.”

Thassarian didn’t wait another moment, taking off into the Sunwell chamber at a dead sprint.  He could feel something at the edges of his mind and wondered if that was the power the high elves- the blood elves, now- felt, wondered absently if that was what Koltira had known all his life.  It was an odd feeling, but it suffused him with a warmth that he hadn’t known since before his death, and that gave him the strength he needed to keep moving.  The two emerged into the chamber and Thassarian stared in awe at the blessed water before a shout from his right caught his attention- and awe turned to horror.  He raised an arm to shield his eyes from the ever-brightening light, and before he could even react, it all turned to darkness.

 

_Fight!_

_What?_

_You have to fight.  You can’t give up!_

_Who are you?_

_We haven’t met.  You’ve fought all your life, why would you stop now?_

_There’s no point.  It’s too late._

_It’s never too late.  Never.  There’s someone you care about, isn’t there?_

_…_

_Yes?_

_… yes._

_Then fight!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 4! I'm expecting this to run one or two more chapters longer with an epilogue, and that will be that. I hope you're enjoying this, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> After a few practice drabbles I decided to try my hand at a chaptered work. I wanted to do something different as far as Sylvanas's supposed control over Koltira, and this story sort of wrote itself as I sat here. I hope to have the next chapter done in a couple weeks :) Hope you liked it!!


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